


Stargazing

by Kawaii_Kitty360



Series: Stargazing Universe [1]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Beth is Trying Her Best™, Beth's blood is literally wine, Brad is being a douche for no reason and it's not okay, Bullying, Conroy is a small bean, F/M, Family Bonding, Fluff and Angst, Gen, He back, Jerry is oblivious to everything, Jerry is probably the only one happy, Morty is depressed, Morty likes to stargaze, Morty only wants Summer to be happy, Nothing is okay, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Out of Character, Physical Abuse, Probably not but be careful, S3E1 spoilers maybe, Sibling Love, Summer deserves to be happy, Summer is depressed, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, This is before Rick breaks out of prison, This probably isn't C-137, beth is assuming things, can you believe i actually finished a story, could get annoying, could this count as drug abuse?, i mean conroy is practically forcing pills down their throats, platonic cuddles, please help my precious yellow boy ;;;;, probably, rick is assuming things, st-st-stuttering, there's a lot of made-up alien stuff im sor R Y, this is becoming as fluffy as those pancakes he made
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 00:02:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 29,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10842243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kawaii_Kitty360/pseuds/Kawaii_Kitty360
Summary: After Rick got arrested, Morty found himself on the roof of the house nearly every night, studying the stars, marking constellations in a notebook, despite the fact that some of them didn't even exist, and he was trying too hard.Morty sat on the roof, hoping- praying- that a spaceship would crash into their front lawn and Rick would climb out, drunk, and ready for another adventure.Morty sat out in the cold nearly every night, notebook with him, knowing it would never happen.>COMPLETE<





	1. Chapter 1

The night air nipped at Morty's skin as he sat on the roof after having crawled onto it from the window in the upstairs hallway, right next to the stairs. Ever since they came back from Dwarf Terrace-9, Morty made a habit out of sitting up there nearly every night, studying the sky. Conroy flipped out the first time he noticed Morty gone, the window open, and practically destroyed not only the entire house, but the entire city until Morty appeared in his room, at his desk, writing down a few constellations he'd never seen before. He couldn't really tell if he was writing them so he could ask Rick what they were, like he did when he couldn't sleep and sat outside the garage, staring at stars, while his grandpa worked inside on devices with no function, or if he was writing them so he could look them up himself. He reasoned with himself that it was the latter, since Rick was imprisoned for the time, but he 'never found the time' to. 

Morty never considered himself fascinated with the stars until he couldn't see them nearly every night whilst on adventures with Rick, and he didn't know whether he should be happy with that or not. Since Rick abandoned them, he tried to tell himself that he hated him. He tried to tell himself that he hated their adventures, and hated every single memory in his brain. He tried to tell himself that the past months with Rick were the worst months of his life, and not his best.

He tried, but he couldn't. He could convince his family: Summer, Beth, Jerry, even Conroy could be convinced, but Morty couldn't convince himself, no matter how hard he tried. Rick was more present in Morty's mind since he got arrested than he was when he was in the garage every day, and that worried him. He was clingy already, nearly attached to Rick's hip on weekends, and he feared that it would get worse ~~when~~ if Rick returned.

These were the type of thoughts Morty tried to avoid thinking about while he sat on the roof. 

Despite the stars being a constant reminder, Morty exclusively prohibited any thoughts of Rick from being up there. The roof was Morty's safe-zone, the place he felt more at home, without Conroy's metaphorical breath down his neck.

"Master Morty, are you up there?" Speak of the devil. Morty nearly fell off the roof at the highly-accented voice, practically scrambling up the tiles and sliding down to the window where the robotic butler stood, a plate of pills with him. 

_Oh, great,_ Morty thought. _He's gonna shove pills down my throat._ "Yeah! Yeah... wh-what's u-- what i-i-is is it?"

"You've been up here for quite some time, Master Morty. It's nearly sunrise! Did you even sleep?"

Morty suppressed a sigh as he took the plate from Conroy's hands, looking at them in destain. "I sl-slept enough. Thank y-y-you, Conroy."

"My pleasure, Master Morty."

Conroy turned back towards the stairs, producing four arms and clambering down the stairs like a dog with perfected ease. Morty had witnessed multiple failures on Conroy's part, and the one time Jerry had laughed at him, Conroy had tripped him on his way down. Morty, in turn, had laughed at that, a single bark that earned a glare from Beth, despite the fact she was trying not to laugh, too.

From the bottom of the stairs, Conroy turned to look up at Morty, who quickly downed the pills. For being an AI, he seemed pretty worried about Morty's wellbeing, which was a lot more than he could say for Beth, Summer, or Jerry. Granted, they all had their own problems, like Beth quickly running out of wine, Jerry dealing with his job, and Summer being practically chained to the house by Conroy, but it still was weird to be cared more about by a robot than by family. Though, at this point, Conroy WAS family.

As Morty began to descend the steps, a door behind him opened, and Morty stopped to look back. The only other person could be Summer, and she usually had no reason to leave her room unless she was using the bathroom, getting breakfast, going to school, or sneaking out, and it was too early for any of those. 

Morty blamed the fact that he returned to the top of the stairs on getting a jacket, and not the fact that he was worried about his sister.

When he reached the top, he discreetly looked at Summer's door to find it cracked, the teen standing behind the door with wide, red eyes. Her gaze was unfocused, like she was looking through Morty and not at him, until she blinked and she was suddenly waving him in. Morty looked at the bottom of the stairs, confirming that Conroy was gone, before stepping towards her. He was at least three feet away when Summer stretched forward, grabbing him by his shirt and yanking him into her room. He tumbled in, nearly tripping over her, as she flung him around and shut the door, locking it. He couldn't even ask why she'd been crying when she slammed her hands on his shoulders and said, brokenly, "Morty, I can't do this anymore. I'm sick of eating pills, I'm sick of dealing with Conroy's crap- I-I-I-I-I- I just want an omelet!"

Morty grabbed his sister by her arms, squeezing slightly before giving her a soft shake. "Summer, I know! I k-know, okay? I w-w-w-want an omelet, t-too, but w-w-w-we can't scream th-that. C-C-Conroy will freak out a-a-and feed us m-more pills. And I a-already had my p-pills for the morning!" He brushed the stray piece of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail out of her face, offering her a tight smile that he knew she could tell was forced. "S-Summer, I promise t-t-that things will get better. J-Just be careful t-t-telling people y-y-you want eggs o-or somebody might t-t-tell their own C-Conroy and get you e-e-executed o-o-o-or something!"

"At this point, Morty," Summer began, pulling away and raising her arms in exasperation, "being executed would be _better_ than this."

Morty felt a familiar pang in his chest, but did his best to hide his reaction from his sister. He'd always wanted Summer to have a normal life; something better than what he was dragged into when Rick moved back in. He wanted her to be a normal teenager with a normal teenager life, partying late at night with all her friends and jumping from guy to guy in search for 'the one' despite the fact that she's still in high school, but that was too much to ask for in a universe where Rick wanted to take his entire family on adventures. He didn't want her to be sucked into the chaos, and he definitely didn't want her getting depressed over it. 

"D-Don't say that, Summer," Morty whispered, cursing his voice for wavering, cursing the fact that Summer had noticed his eyes quickly becoming glossy with fresh tears. He didn't wipe them away, though, as he looked up at his sister; his beautiful, wonderful teenage sister who just didn't deserve what Rick brought to their lives. "You have a full life ahead of you; y-y-you shouldn't think that way!"

"Like I can help it, Morty!" she snapped, moving her feet to begin pacing the carpet. Morty shifted on his feet, biting his lip as he looked away to try and stop the undeniable tears rolling down his cheeks. Months of exploring space with his grandpa did nothing to make him stronger in the emotional department, and he hated that. "Like I can help the fact that I've had more fun with Grandpa Rick than I've had in the entire length of my life, and you can't even get upset with me because I know you're upset, too!"

"Of course I'm fucking upset!" Morty cried out, rolling his shoulders behind him slightly in defense. "I'm upset because he ruined our lives! We're p-p-practically dependent on h-h-him now a-and with him g-gone, we've finally r-realized how m-mundane life really i-is! But I've f-felt this way l-long before Rick came c-crashing into our garage!" As the corners of his vision began to darken, Morty stopped himself, nearly biting his tongue in order to shut himself up. He didn't need to go blabbering his deepest secret to his sister; his sister who deserved more happiness than the world could offer. 

It was too late, though; realization flashed in Summer's eyes, and she dropped her shoulders, brows angling up as fresh tears began to gather at the corner of her eyes. "M-Morty..."

A soft knocking at the door caused them both to jump, and they looked at each other as their mother's voice bled through the wood: "Summer, Morty, are you both in there? It's almost time for school."

Morty didn't look back as he walked out of Summer's room and to his own to get dressed for school, aware of his sister's gaze on his back, of Beth's concerned questioning, and of Conroy's dutiful summoning at the bottom of the stairs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **!!!!WARNING!!!!!**   
>  _Bullying is heavily present in this chapter. I don't think it's descriptive enough to trigger anybody, but it's better to be safe than sorry. **Proceed with caution**_

Morty tried his hardest to be a wallflower; to blend with the crowds- tried his hardest to stay out of the way of popular kids. He even tried to avoid Jessica, the small waves he offered in response to her smiles enough to peak his anxiety. When Rick was around, he felt strong, the consequences lower when the possibility of getting taken out of school for an adventure was higher than the possibility of getting confronted for even glancing in Jessica's direction. But Rick was gone, and this was the third day in a row he was slammed against a locker, cutting his cheek on the dull metal that lined the halls. Nobody even spared a glance as Morty's books spilled to the floor, as Brad pulled Morty by his hair and knocked him on his ass; nobody even looked up as Brad drove the toes of his shoe into Morty's ribs. By now, paired with the abuse he would go through on adventures, Morty was able to keep his mouth shut, which only angered Brad more. All bullies want is to hear you scream, but Morty would rather _die_ than give Brad what he wanted.

Morty made the mistake of going to one of the robots that replaced teachers, once. His temple was cut open from when it hit the hinge of a locker, and he asked if he could call his mom to come pick him up, but the robot only handed him a few pills and told him to man up and stop being a little bitch.

By the time Morty got home, Beth was passed out on the table, Conroy wiping off some of the wine that spilled on the wooden surface, and Summer was blasting music from her room. Morty silently stalked to the upstairs bathroom and proceeded to clean the wound himself, smacking on a bandage through tears.

"C-C-C-C'mon, Morty," he told his reflection, eyes blurry with stinging almost as bad as his scalp, "s-stop being a l-l-l-little bitch."

So the next time Brad knocked him on his ass, Morty wasn't going to be a little bitch.

Brad kicked him for about three minutes before spitting on Morty's face, muttering something that Morty couldn't hear as he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away. Morty understood his rage; nobody was happy with the takeover, but it's not like anybody could revolt. People had tried. People had failed.

Morty, though, had gotten used to the rage. It was an emotion that had built up over time, frustration of never feeling good enough for Rick's attention. He strived to be better, for no reason, and that's why he wasn't mad or upset or confused whenever Brad punched him in the nose. He wasn't upset because he knew how bad it felt to keep all that pent up, and he'd sacrifice himself as the entire town's punching bag if it somehow made things better. For everybody.

What was confusing, though, was that Brad could shatter his face in at any given point, Morty too used to being a punching bag to even attempt fighting back, but he never chose to. Morty always assumed it was because he was easy, but that never explained why Brad's blows were always lighter when he had visible bruises. Morty tried not to think about it too hard, instead settling with picking himself off the floor and trying to make it to his next class before the bell rang. It was almost routine at this point.

Morty didn't want to be a little bitch, but he didn't know how to not be.

 

* * *

 

Morty finished his homework the moment he sat on his bed, ignoring the pain in his temples and pulsing in his ribs. There was no doubt that his skin was bruised, but the garage was only that: a garage. Rick's lab had disappeared, and Morty had little patience to hobble around the garage, clutching his ribs, looking for some sort of switch to turn the garage back into ~~his safe place~~ Rick's lab, just to realize he had no idea how to even begin fixing his broken body. So when he came home, he took the plate of pills Conroy had 'prepared' up to his room, taking the steps as casual as he could. His adventures had helped him conceal his pain a little better, so he maintained a straight face until he made it behind his locked door. No teachers were present at school to ask about the tear marks staining his assignments, and that was the first time he felt grateful about the situation.


	3. Chapter 3

The weekend rolled in, and with it, a chance to relax. Naturally, because Fate actually hated Morty, he couldn't, especially when his father burst into the living room with a flyer in his hands, nearly ripping from the grip he had on it.

"Guess what day it is!" he sang out, but nobody answered him. Morty was pretending to watch Ball Fondlers, really trapped in his head with memory after memory of endless binge sprees of the very show, while Summer was lounging next to him, tapping her screen with her thumbs as she worried her lip between her teeth. She was probably making plans to escape the house past curfew, to drive up to the hill and overlook the town with her friends.

Beth, however, was too busy drinking another glass of wine to care what her husband had to say.

Despite the lack of response from his family, Jerry continued with his announcement: "It's Saturday! And--"

"No shit, Dad," Summer bit, and her crude response actually caused his shoulders to fall before he shrugged the comment off and picked up where he left off.

"And that means that there's going to be... drum roll, please?"

Conroy, in the kitchen, doing dishes, humored him by tapping melodically on his chest. Again, Jerry paused.

"Oh, uh... th-thank you, Conroy."

"My pleasure, Master Jerry."

Morty could practically hear Jerry's ego inflate at the comment before he cleared his throat and finally finished: "Alien Prisoner Executions!!"

Again, nobody responded. Morty couldn't blame them. While the first time the executions were held, everybody was forced to attend, but, after that, hardly anybody went. It was a good place to gather with friends and virtually the only place to get real food, but nobody was completely fond of the wails and pleas of the unlucky prisoners about to lose their lives. People sadistic enough to actually bare the noise still went, though, and Morty had no doubt it was that handful of people that kept A.P.E. still running. It was sick; sicker than the Purge planet he and Rick visited.

Morty snapped the rubber band on his wrist at the thought.  _Bad Morty._

"Does anybody want to go?" Jerry asked hesitantly, a soft, yet hopeful, request, as if he knew what everybody's answer was going to be: 'No', or silence.

"Yeah, sure."

Even Beth looked up at Summer's voice, watching with a slack jaw as she stood from the couch and stretched.

"Wh- Uh-... R-Really?" Their father voiced out the words everybody in the room was thinking, and his eyes widened further as she put her phone on the table and nodded.

"Yep. Let me go shower. It starts at 6, right? I should be ready by then. You coming, Morty?"

Morty, half-listening at this point, looked up with a raised eyebrow. "T-To shower?"

Summer nearly hit him with the pillow she had a hand on. "What the fuck? No. To the fair."

"O-Oh! Uh, y-yeah, okay."

She rolled her eyes at him teasingly before motioning him to follow him. "You _need_ a shower?"

"No, I-I should be o-o-okay."

"'Kay," Summer began towards the staircase, Morty stumbling after her so he could get dressed. "Get ready then."

"T-That was the plan, S-Summer."

She snorted at him before she shut the bathroom door, and he walked across the hall to his room, touching the knob before the energy seemed to drain out his body. She must've been texting her friends and agreed to meet up at the fair before skipping town. Morty wondered to himself if she, for some miraculous reason, planned on taking Morty with her, but then he thought better of it. Even if she did, that would be too suspicious if both he and her, as well as a bunch of her friends, disappeared in the same night. Everybody was used to her friends leaving, but if Morty vanished, too, alarms would be raised. Most everybody knew how smart Summer was, and if she planned on leaving for good, the one thing she would bring for _sure_  would be Morty.

That was the moment that Morty decided that he would sacrifice himself to make sure Summer got out.

He could be overthinking this, yes; that was completely possible, but there was no other reason why she would go to APE  _and_ invite Morty. The fair made their entire family uncomfortable and the only reason Jerry went was because of the food. He'd seen pills forced down Morty's throat enough to know that some real food would do them all some good, and that was basically the only reason he still tried to get his family to tag along. He wasn't going to force them because he knew how sickening the entire fair was, but he thought he'd at least offer, which was nice, Morty supposed.

Nevertheless, Morty couldn't risk Summer's escape by going with her.

He would go to the fair, of course (perhaps he could get them both an omelet to eat); he had to make sure Summer stayed safe throughout her entire APE experience. Maybe it was selfish to think that way, that he could protect her if anything happened, but he didn't care. He didn't care what happened to him so long as Summer was safe.

 

* * *

 

About an hour later, Morty was staring at the sidewalk as Jerry blabbered on about how 'fun the fair will be' and how upset he was 'that Beth stayed home but she'll be fine' or whatever he was saying. At this point, Morty honestly had no idea, and his father's voice began to sound reminiscent of a buzzing fly; annoying, and something he wanted to get away from immediately. However, it wasn't like he could just ditch and go home while Summer walked beside him, glancing at him every now and then. Eventually, she got fed up with Jerry's voice, and let out a loud groan, followed by: "Oh my god, Dad, shut _up._ "

"I'm just making conversation!" Jerry defended awkwardly, messing with the sleeves of his polo, but he fell into silence, worming his hands into his jeans as they continued towards the fair. Morty almost felt bad for him; he was trying, he really was. It was just that his 'best' wasn't necessarily good enough.

When had that thought entered his mind?

Morty snapped the band on his wrist.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a joy to write, but I did absolutely 0 proofreading, so sorry if it's kinda stupid (-﹏-。)

The screams could be heard from a mile away from the fair, and the Smith group cringed the moment they reached their ears. The pained sounds of broken aliens were one thing Morty would never get accustomed to, no matter how many adventures he went on (*snap*), and he honestly had no idea how Rick (*snap*) was able to sleep at night knowing how many families he's probably destroyed (*snap*).

~~(Plot twist: he couldn't.)~~

Nevertheless, since Morty had grown up with constant screaming, he was able to tune out the screeching with worrying ease, following close by his sister as they entered the fairgrounds. Jerry placed his fists on his hips, looking around the stalls with a hum.

"Alright, kids: here's some money. Go loose! If you need me, I'm going to be eating some kebabs."

Morty and Summer both opened their hands as Jerry tossed them both a wad of money, held by a rubber band, and they looked wordlessly at each other in shock. While the amount wasn't surprising, the person who held it was. Jerry was actually making _income_.

"What the _fuck_?" Summer whispered to Morty as Jerry walked away, swing in his step that wasn't there on the way up. Boastful bastard. "Do you think Mom knows about this?"

"I-I-I-If she does, she's n-never said anything to m-m-me," Morty hummed as he stared at the wad, looking up at Summer as she waved towards somebody and began to move forward. He could definitely buy her an omelet now.

If Morty still trusted anybody in the town, it would be Summer's friends. He'd met them a handful of times, talking to them in hushed whispers from the roof while they stalked through the bushes to get his sister and take her on another late-night escapade. They seemed nice enough, and they hung out with Summer willingly, so that was a plus.

He smiled at a girl, roughly 16 in age, and offered a small wave as he pocketed the money, watching as she jumped at his gesture and looked away. No matter how many times he's talked to her, he's never gotten her name, which was fine by him. He didn't want to embarrass himself by forgetting her name when he even had difficulty remembering his own sometimes. He watched as his sister finished talking to her friends and began to walk with them away, Morty but a thought in the back of her mind.

As Morty scanned the area, the screaming but a dull ringing in his ears now, he noticed a few guards sitting, pretending to eat while they talked worriedly (Morty could tell by the expressions on their faces, and the frantic motions they made with their hands). Ever-curious Morty raised an eyebrow as he walked towards the stall, eyeballing a plumbus while he opened his ears specifically for their conversation, snapping the band on his wrist the entire way.

"I checked everywhere; he's just gone," the one was saying, waving a curly fry (or the alien equivalent) around, sauce dripping to the grass.

"Gone? How can that be possible?" the other hissed, picking up the bottle of alien ketchup and squirting some on his plate with disinterest. It was clear he was trying to save face while the other was straight-up panicked.

"I-I don't know. I'm a little worried. He's a high-class terrorist, a-a-a-and I don't want to risk him bombing the fair. We both know that's something he would do."

He was really nervous; the insistent stuttering made that obvious. Morty snapped the band once more before raising his hand to touch his throat. Was that how he sounded?  _Oh god._

"Hey, kid," a gruff voice growled, causing Morty to jump and look at the man running the stand. "Ya gonna buy somethin' or not?"

"O-Oh, I-I-I-I was just th-thinking," Morty covered, still trying to listen to the conversation behind him. "C-C-Can you tell me w-w-what the, uh..." he squinted, staring at the alien word in front of him. "Can you tell me what t-t-this does?" He pointed at what looked like an elongated, thickened noodle with obvious peach fuzz growing from it (sort of like a skinnier, solid pool noodle), and watched as the stall worker looked at what he was pointing at with a smirk.

"Oh, that thing? That cleans inside your asshole."

"M-M-M-My whatnow?" Morty cringed at the object, taking a slight step back. How big of an asshole did somebody have to have to stick _that_ in there?! The stall worker laughed at Morty's obvious discomfort, but Morty's attention was back behind him.

"Keep it running," the calmer one snapped, and Morty heard a chair move back.

"B-But-"

"No. It's just one prisoner. We can capture him again."

"No, we can't. You don't understand who he is! He's--"

"Shut up! We'll talk about this later."

Morty pulled out some money with shaking hands as he bought a tiny box, an eyebrow perking as something jingled inside of it.

"Enjoy that cube, kid," the worker said, laughter in his voice. "Think there's a key or somethin' in there, but it's so cute, I didn't have the heart to break it."

"O-Oh, okay. Thank y-y-you."

The worker waved him off, and Morty began to walk away from the stall, paranoia at its peak.

As he was walking, a conversation flowed to his ears, and he paused to listen closer: "Yeah, I heard that the fair might close early, before the executions. Something about terrorists."

"Really?" a feminine voice continued, and Morty examined the box for something to do while he stood, rooted in place. With the box, he couldn't snap the band, but made a mental note to do it later. "I heard that they spent too much this year, and they're going to go into debt."

"Maybe it's both?"

The feminine one hummed, "Well, whatever is it, I think I want to go home now," and Morty kept walking, holding the box with his right hand as he snapped the band with his left. As Morty continued forward, letting his feet carry him without really thinking about it, he was increasingly aware of how many people moved around him, muttering things about the fair closing. They were all evacuating, just because of some rumor.

Morty stopped, worrying his lip between his teeth. The more people left around him, the more he wanted to go home, and set back off to the kebab stand. As he walked, the bustle got louder, and soon Morty was in a full sprint, anxiety at an all-time high. When he made it, though, the stands were empty, and the worker was packing up.

"Excuse me?" Morty squeaked as he slammed his hands on the counter, watching the worker jump nearly out if its skin as it looked back at him. "Did you see where a man who looks kind of like me, but taller, older, and in a green polo went?"

"Uh..." the creature began in a high voice, scratching their neck with a sausage-like finger. "I think he said something about going home."

"Okay, thank y-you!" Morty smiled at them as best he could before setting off again, this time to find Summer when he stopped, in the middle of the fairgrounds, people moving quickly and around him. Morty was absently snapping the band as his vision darkened at the edges, unwanted thoughts about Rick entered his mind ('I miss him', 'I hope he's okay', 'I wonder where he is', 'Is he who they're all worried about?', 'I wouldn't put it past him', 'He'd so bomb a fair', etc.).

And then he wondered about Summer.

 _She's fine,_  Morty thought, tearing his mind away from his grandfather as he turned on his heel to face the entrance. _She's with her friends. They probably ditched the moment she got here._

The idea wasn't unlikely, and was barely enough to sate his peaking anxiety, so he began walking, moving slower against the hustle, people's chatter actually managing to overlap the fading screaming as officers packed the prisoners back up for a later day. He was honestly in no hurry, knowing that home meant Conroy and more pills, and he didn't even get anything to eat. He only got this box that was virtually useless to him unless he shattered it, and he didn't even know where the supposed key went.

He really missed Rick.

Morty had to be at least a mile away from the park when it happened: a small whistling noise began from somewhere from behind him, so he stopped, turning around to witness as something made contact with the fairgrounds, still occupied by various aliens and humans alike, and sent the entire park ablaze with a massive explosion that took out everything in the park _plus_  a few meters of street and houses. Morty shielded his face from the blast, mouth falling open in shock as he watched the mushroom cloud flower over the area of impact.

Funny; Morty always imagined a nuke to be bigger.

At that point, the earth began to rumble, and Morty again turned and watched as the alien space pods that took up his neighborhood and many others' started up, shooting out of his home planet and take off into the sunset. Morty stood in his spot for a few more minutes before finally setting back into motion, moving faster than ever towards home.

* * *

Morty had gotten home before Summer did, which caused him to panic even more. He locked himself in his room until the moon had begun to rise, then locked himself on the roof, keeping not only an eye out for Summer, but for anything in the sky. It was a useless hope, but it was the only thing he had left in the world. Ships were still leaving the atmosphere, and Morty felt himself smile slightly as he thought about Earth becoming the Human planet again. No more aliens, aside from the ones that either got stranded, or chose to stay. Without their command, it would be relatively easy to destroy the robots that held most the world hostage, but Morty had a sinking feeling that Jerry wouldn't let him go so easy.

Morty snapped the band to the sound of crickets as he stared at the stars, the distinct smell of ham reaching his nostrils, making his stomach growl, but he ignored it, eyes set on a new star; a star he'd never seen before. He watched it for a while, blink in an out of existence for a few minutes until he knew, for a fact, that the 'star' he was looking at was a ship, or maybe some sort of pod. He couldn't tell for sure, but he knew that it was coming _to_  Earth, and not leaving.

Morty snapped the band harder than usual and hissed in pain.

"Morty!"

The brunet nearly threw himself off the roof with how high he jumped, spinning to look at Summer with wide eyes. How long had she been home?

"Summer?" Morty began crawling towards her, happiness and relief swelling his chest. She was alive!

Before he could say anything else, she grabbed his shirt sleeve and pulled him down the stairs, and through the front door so they were standing on the front lawn. He wasn't sure if he liked the look on her face.

"Morty, with the aliens gone, we can finally rescue him!"

"W-Wha-- who a-are you t-t-t-talking about?" Morty hooked his finger under the band, ready to start snapping it again when Summer yanked his hand, causing him to pull the band so far that it broke, flinging into the grass nearby. Morty looked at it, brain unable to keep up with what just happened while Summer continued to elaborate.

"Rick, Morty! We can finally go and save him because the aliens are gone! We- We can go save him!"

Morty's gaze snapped back to her when a green glow illuminated their faces, and his eyes widened as he stepped back. "W-W-W-W-Where did you get that?!"

"Does it matter?" Summer laughed as she waved the portal gun around, and that's when he noticed the mud on her shirt, her arms, jeans, and shoes. She'd dug up the spare Rick buried in the backyard just in case anything happened to him. "We can save him. We can get our grandpa back, and--"

"Master Summer, Master Morty, there you are."

Both of them froze, Morty spinning as Conroy's voice came from the front door.

"I've made dinner, and--"

Time seemed to freeze as he noticed the portal gun in Summer's hand, voice cutting out immediately as he honed it on it.

"Oh. Where on Earth did you get that?"

"Uh..." Summer lowered the gun and slowly moved it behind her back. "Nowhere?"

"I'm so sorry, Master Summer, but I'm afraid you cannot have that. That's a terrorist's weapon."

Morty's eyes widened even more as four more arms slid out of Conroy's body, all of them equipped with hands made specifically for grabbing.

"If you have it, I must hand you over to the Galactic Federation."

"I--"

Before Morty could blink, Conroy was upon them, ripping the gun from behind Summer's back and wrapping her in five sets of hands.

"Hey!" Morty nearly screeched, grabbing Conroy's arms. "Stop!"

"I'm sorry, Master Morty, but your sister is acquainted with a terrorist. I must report this."

"Do it then, you motherfucker!" Summer snarled, writhing, eyes ablaze with fight. She kicked at his arms, knocking Morty off them and causing him to stumble nearly into Conroy's chest. "I fucking dare you, you dumbass piece of fucking metal. Fuck you!"

"Summer!" Morty struggled not to fall over as his vision blanked for a second, and he spun, throwing his hand out to stop Conroy in whatever way he could. It didn't work, and Conroy knocked Morty aside with a soft hum in his motor as he sunk to the floor, wheels pulling inside of him and being replaced with a rocket. He was going to blast both of them out into space! Summer would get literally destroyed! Morty's adrenaline was higher than he'd ever felt it (even higher than when he faced Mr. Jellybean), and he stomped a foot, hunching his shoulders as he screamed the first thing that came to his mind:

"It was my idea!"

Conroy and Summer froze, staring down at Morty as he looked up at them both, fresh tears burning his eyes.

"It was m-me. I wanted to get Rick. He l-l-left his portal gun here, and I took it to my r-r-room. I didn't want to go alone, so I-I brought it up with S-Summer. Please, l-let her go, and take m-m-me instead."

Conroy nearly dropped Summer, letting out a soft, "Oh, dear," under his breath as he began towards Morty, studying him, as if trying to find out if he was lying.

Morty closed his eyes against the tears, feeling one burn down the side of his face, as he tried to calm himself down.

He would sacrifice himself for Summer in any situation to know she was safe.

Conroy's motor hummed again as his arms raised, beginning to wrap around Morty's figure, but Morty didn't care. The only thing he could think about was how happy he was it worked, and how he knew Summer would be safe. She would live a normal life, without a brother like Morty.

He opened his eyes, catching his sister's gaze, feeling his heart break as tears began to roll down her face, awe and horror and shock written on her face.

"I love you," he said.

And then the lawn exploded.

Summer let out a yelp as she was flung forward from the blast, knocking into Conroy and setting him toppling over, tearing a little bit into Morty's shirt. The brunet stumbled, grabbing Summer to steady the both of them before looking up in confusion at the black and purple pod, smoking from its nosedive into their lawn. Conroy set himself back upright, but didn't make another move to Morty, too distracted by the newcomer on their property.

A light flickered on the roof, and Morty realized that the pod was the 'star' he'd been staring at.

The hatch opened with a squeal, a lean figure popping from the top of it. None of them said a word, until the stranger pulled out a large, obviously-alien gun, and angled it right at Conroy.

Summer screamed as they shot, the bullet contacting with Conroy and making him explode in front of them. Morty instinctively moved to his sister, holding an arm out in a protective manner as he glared at the ship in front of them, specifically at the alien, waiting for their next move, ready for anything. He didn't have a gun on him, but maybe he'd be able to save Summer if they shot. Morty tensed as they lifted their arm, hooking their fingers under the mask covering their face, ripping it off fluidly. Summer gasped as Morty wordlessly let his jaw drop.

"G-UUR-ess who's b-b-back, baby!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a bit more planned for this chapter, but I've decided to push it to chapter 6.
> 
> [Fanart <3](https://lexi-does.tumblr.com/post/160650518604/guys-listen-yall-should-read-stargazing-by)

Morty wasn't sure what he expected when Rick came back, but it probably wasn't his front lawn and robotic butler being destroyed. As expected, Jerry was pretty upset when he and Beth walked out to find Conroy's remains on the ground, but then they noticed Rick. Kinda hard not to, when he was laughing and screaming from the top of the ship he came in. 

"Beth!" Rick had laughed, swinging his weapon around and firing into the sky a few times. "Beth, honey! Sweetie! Daddy's home!" 

And Beth, not having had anything to eat besides wine for who knows how long, passed out from the shock.

It was almost comical, in a way, how the events progressed. First the fair, lawn, and Conroy all got blown up, and then Beth fainted, and that the only thing that made Rick let out a humored, "Oh shit!" as he clambered from the ship and practically fell on his face. It was clear he was drunk off his ass, but when was he not? Morty could only stand and watch as Rick slipped on the grass a few times as he tried to hurry to his daughter's side, who was in Jerry's arms as he looked at her worriedly. They'd later deny it, but that was the one moment where they actually had a civil conversation, murmuring things Morty couldn't hear from his spot a few feet away. Summer was next to him for about .5 seconds once Rick was on the ground before she immediately threw herself with a choked sob at their grandpa, hugging him tight. Rick was knocked over, landing on his ass at the force of Summer's hug, but she situated herself between his legs as they embraced, her face nuzzled in his neck as he smiled wordlessly at the sky, holding her close. From where Morty was standing, he could see her shoulder shaking with the force of her cries, watched as Rick slowly peeled her off, holding her by her shoulders and talking to her in a low voice with a look that Morty never thought he'd see on any Rick's face: fondness. Despite himself, Morty smiled. 

And then Rick looked up at him, and Morty felt like a deer caught in the headlights of a train going 300mph. 

Rick looked at Summer again, patting her shoulder slightly before standing, leaving her to help Jerry move Beth inside as dusted off his awkward, skintight black jumpsuit. His entire chest was covered with what appeared to be bulletproof armor, stocked with grenades and weapon holders, and Morty was surprised it didn't squeak as Rick walked over to him. For a second they just stood, staring at each other, unspoken words flowing in the deafening silence, as Morty was tongue-tied and Rick was... well, he was Rick. Who knew what was going on in his head.

There were a few beats, until Rick inhaled with purpose, and cracked a small smirk at him. "What, no hug for grandpa?"

Oh, he had something for grandpa alright.

Rick let out an 'umpf' as Morty threw his fist, contacting with Rick's jaw and causing him to take a step back. Unsurprisingly, the blow wasn't as unpredictable as Morty was hoping for, because Rick only offered him another smug look. "Done?"

Morty let out a choked noise as he lowered his hand and looked down, squeezing his eyes shut as sobs wracked his body. Rick exhaled above him, and Morty instantly shut up, trying to control his emotions because Rick only just got back and he was already showing weakness. _God fucking dammit,_ Morty hissed to himself, and watched through his lashes as Rick kneeled before him. He tensed when he felt a hand on his shoulder, guiding him forward, but let his body go with the motion.

Morty's forehead contacted with Rick's shoulder as Rick held him there, keeping his hand resting on Morty's shoulder, but neither moved to further the contact, the small gesture enough to get the message across. Morty allowed his shoulders to slump, tears still escaping and falling to the grass below as he listened to Rick's breathing. He smelt smokey; probably from crashing his ship dead-on into the lawn. 

"I s-s-s-should hate you," Morty mumbled to the ground, and heard Rick let out another sigh.

"You r-really should, Morty," Rick replied, and Morty felt his fingertips dig slightly into his back. They fell into silence again as the crickets began to play, already over the events that happened, and Morty wished he could do the same. The moment lasted for a few more seconds before Rick harshly pushed him back and stood quickly, Morty stumbling back and windmilling his arms to steady himself as Rick let out a gruff, "Welp, that's enough of that! I think I've had enough social interaction to last me the rest of my life. C'mon Morty, I smell ham."

Morty wishes he could've said he didn't immediately fall into step behind his grandfather, instinct kicking in over reason, and he knew he'd travel to the ends of the Earth if Rick even hinted it. 

He rubbed absently at his ribs, which had been hurting since his sprint home from the fair, as he walked in, noticing Summer and Jerry on the couch with Beth, grease-covered plates on the coffee table as Rick continued to lead him into the kitchen where a huge pot roast had been made beforehand by Conroy. 

"Jackpot!" Rick cheered as he sprung into motion, and Morty smiled because his grandpa was back and livelier than ever.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just full of fluff and cutesy things is that even possible in a Rick and Morty fanfic?
> 
> Things are definitely probably OOC here so apologies in advance!!
> 
>  
> 
> ~~there's also the assumption of suicidal tendencies so be careful with that and stay safe ily all~~
> 
> [Fanart <3 ](https://lexi-does.tumblr.com/post/160705793199/based-off-stargazing-kawaii-kitty360-s-story-on)

It was a new week, but that didn't mean anything with school being canceled 'until further notice', which made Rick happy. 

"G-Good," he'd said when they heard the news, grinning smugly at Jerry's frustrated face. "You're better-- you d-don't need school, Morty." 

Morty was almost upset, because being home meant more time with Rick. Or, more time with the thought of Rick, because his grandpa was constantly crowded by both his mom and sister, often at the same time. 

Morty had little doubt that Jerry would be with them if it weren't for him searching for another job, since the one he was 'assigned' was no longer an option. Since the alien medicine wasn't around to keep horses alive longer than turtles, Beth would ultimately have to return to work, but Morty never knew when that would be. The money Jerry was saving to 'take the family on a vacation' was used to keep the power on, and buy any food necessities, which was basically all, because they'd been living off the pot roast Conroy prepared for literally almost three days. Not that they were complaining, but their stomachs were from the sudden change from pills to ham and potatoes. Rick seemed to have no trouble eating, though, and Morty knew the rest of the family was semi-jealous at his ability to keep a normal helping down. Morty, though, was used to eating small servings, so much that Summer would tease him about still being a baby with his baby-sized meals and his insistent use of smaller silverware. Rick obviously never really paid attention, because he was practically shoving more food at Morty whenever he'd get done with his dinner. 

"Y-You gotta eat, Morty," Rick would tell him drunkenly, and Morty would wait until Rick was distracted to toss it onto his plate and leave to wash his dishes.

Morty had all the time in the world, but he still had yet to ask Rick about the constellations he'd marked down. 

When Rick wasn't with his family, he was in the garage, Morty often sitting in the doorway or on the chair he'd moved next to some shelves just to be in his presence, and that's when he understood why Summer and Beth did the same thing. 

Morty could remember falling asleep on that chair, but could never remember falling asleep properly in his bed, until, one night, he did. 

The whole day, Morty had seen Beth hanging off Rick's shoulder, Summer out with her friends and Jerry out trying to make a living while Beth got off her 'daddy issues', as Jerry had yelled one night during a heated argument. Morty was on the roof that night and Rick was in the garage and Summer was blasting music in her headphones (Morty had checked) to drown out the sounds of her family, the only solace for him being the crickets that sang a lullaby to the world and the soft clanking and occasional swear from Rick bleeding through the open garage door. Morty was used to softening his sobs through the thin walls, but he was still a little upset that Rick didn't magically hear his struggle and offer help. Not like he would, being Rick Sanchez and everything. 

So with no Jerry around to torment her with her childhood, Beth had freely clung to Rick like a siamese twin, either holding his hand or clinging to his arm. Most the day was spent on the couch, so that was fine, but any time Rick had tried to leave, Beth would automatically wake, allowing his arm to slide through hers until she clasped onto his hand and got up with him, trailing sleepily like a dog on a leash. It, in all honesty, almost sickened Morty because he knew that's how he looked before Rick abandoned them, and he found himself cringing every time she would hold his hand as they walked. Morty felt bad for nearly laughing, having to excuse himself from the populated living room after Beth had gone to the bathroom and Rick sprinted to the one upstairs, hissing, "I have to take a shit," as he fled. When Beth had returned, rubbing her eyes, to find the couch empty, she nearly screamed and began to cry, holding a hand to her mouth as she made a break for the kitchen, ripping the cabinet open and slamming what Morty assumed to be a wine glass on the counter as she poured half a cup into the glass and proceeded to chug the bottle. Rick emerged a few moments later with a shouted, "Jesus Christ- Beth, what the shit?!" Morty had coughed out a giggle, standing up and heading outside so he could freely laugh at the ridiculous of the situation. They still hadn't come out when Morty returned. 

After that, Morty realized just how bad Rick had it. 

Literally, every member of the Smith family was trying to hang out with him all at once, Morty being the worst with hanging out even after hours. He reasoned that Rick needed him to get things, like screwdrivers or alien objects that, when Rick pronounced them, made him sound like some sort of possessed demon, but soon he realized that telling himself that was just a blind hope, and that Rick had legs and could get things on his own. 

That's why Morty was surprised when, after not spending time with him as much, Rick barged into his room at nearly midnight when Morty was about to head to the roof. He had his flask, drool running down his face as he threw his arms around Morty's neck and slurred out something that almost sounded like Morty's name before he fainted, tearing them both to the ground. The first night it'd happened, it took Morty off-guard, but he'd grown to expect it when it happened a few more times. 

Like clockwork, Morty would be ready for bed, sitting either on the floor, against the wall on his bed, or at his desk when his door would open and shut again, clicking as Rick locked it (for reasons unknown to Morty) and fell face first on either his bed or his floor, usually knocking out on impact. The few times he didn't, though, he would ramble about adventures Morty knew he made up, even throwing out some names he'd never heard and claiming to punch a triangle in the eye. 

"Y-You don't understand, Morty," Rick said, dismissing him with a flick of his wrist as he continued to speak into the carpet. "He-- the thing's omniscient. H-He can--URP-- he can see everything, M-Morty. He's the Illuminati, a-a-and I don't even believe in that type'a stuff." 

No matter what Morty did, he couldn't get Rick to talk about it again. 

Whenever Rick wasn't rambling, he was shoving some game in Morty's face, ranging from 'Clue' to the Gazorpazorp version of 'The Game of Life'. They were pretty entertaining, but they usually lasted all night, meaning Morty couldn't sleep, nor stargaze anymore. It wasn't like he minded, though; he would give up his ability to see if it meant hanging with Rick more. 

Honestly, Morty was beginning to think Rick missed him.

Of course, things weren't always that great. When Beth came to wake Morty up the first time Rick locked the door behind him, making sure he stayed in the habit of waking up for school, despite the fact that it wasn't in session at the moment, and was greeted with a locked door, she blamed it on adolescence. But when she came back, knocking, announcing breakfast and heard Rick's grunt, followed by him opening the door without a shirt on, belt discarded on Morty's computer chair and shirt on the ground somewhere near Morty's, she went into full panic mode. She didn't say anything, but her face said enough as she walked hurriedly away with the fakest smile on her face, refilling a glass of wine by the time Rick and Morty made it downstairs. Morty tried to remind Rick to not lock the door, but it would always end up locked anyway, despite the fact that one of them, usually Rick, slept on the floor. The few times they ended up in the same bed was only because Rick either stumbled in and passed out on top of him, or crawled in and spooned him when he was having a nightmare. Morty had only caught him in the act a few times, Rick being smart enough to slide out of bed the moment Morty calmed down all the way, but the sudden feeling of another body next to him sometimes roused Morty from his dream, briefly aware of himself pressing against Rick's body before he fell back asleep. Morty had woken up a few times when Rick would throw himself out of the bed upon hearing Beth's footsteps approaching the door and found it hard to hold back laughter when Rick ended up landing upside down, face buried in Morty's shirt or under his own lab coat, which was more often than not folded on Morty's chair, but sometimes didn't make it off Rick's body.

However, there were some nights where Rick was in too deep of a sleep to comfort Morty when he woke from a nightmare, often startling so fast that he shot from bed with a choked gasp. Those nights were when Morty sat on the roof until sunrise, wrapped in an oversized hoodie and sweats, and those were the nights where Morty could truly appreciate life again. Instead of having to deal with school and Brad and robots that actually teach and force learning upon Morty's 'slow' mind, he got to watch the sunrise with the knowledge that his grandpa was asleep in his room, and Morty was happy because he knew that Rick, even if he wouldn't say, was happy, too. 

And he knew, for a fact, that Rick cared about him.

The knowledge hit him harder when Rick had gotten up for a late-night piss and noticed the window open, walking past it as he went to the restroom. Morty listened as his bedroom door opened again, and didn't shut as Rick padded back down the hallway, and down the stairs. That should've been the first sign that Rick was about to pull a Conroy. He only realized this when he heard Rick literally sprint back into his room and race back downstairs, and Morty raised a curious eyebrow as clattering came from the garage before Rick ran out, appearing on the lawn, pulling the sleeves of his lab coat on fully. He was looking panickedly around, holding a device Morty had never seen before. Rick's breath was labored as he pointed the device down and scanned the ground, faded footprints appearing where Summer, Jerry, or Beth had walked earlier that day, brighter ones behind Rick. Morty had never seen him this panicked before, and he was beginning to wonder what got Rick's panties in a twist when Rick turned towards the house, and looked up.

Morty felt his mouth fall into the shy expression he often used, which his father occasionally mocked as 'W-mouth', and he offered Rick a sweater-paw'd wave as Rick jumped out of his skin with a swear. "J-J-Jesus Christ, Morty!! What the fuck a-are you doing on the r-r-roof?!"

"I-I just sit here," Morty explained, hugging his knees again with a small smile as Rick threw his hands in the air, obviously disgruntled.

"Wh-What're you, suicidal!? Get down f-f-from there!"

"I-I-I'm not suicidal, Rick!" Morty hissed down at him, frowning at the accusation. 

"Sounds like s-s-something a suicidal person would say." 

"What's going on?" Summer's voice asked from the window, and Morty crawled up towards her voice, ignoring Rick's incoherent babbling. 

"Your brother i-i-i-is fucking insane!" Rick held a hand up to him, watching with a furrowed brow and open jaw as Morty slid down the sloping roof towards the window, smiling up at Summer innocently. 

"No, Grandpa Rick, he's fine. He sits up here every night," Summer yawned into her fist, rubbing her eyes slightly. "He stargazes."

"The fuck? Why in the shit would y-you stargaze o-o-o-on the roof, Morty!?"

"I-" Morty tried, but got cut off by Summer's tired, impatient voice, saying:

"Because he was waiting for you, Grandpa."

Rick froze, eyes widening slightly, but Morty didn't get a chance to feel embarrassed as Summer continued. "Ever since you abandoned us--"

"Got arrested," Rick corrected roughly.

"--Morty's been sitting up here, waiting for you to come crashing into our lawn. I guess all those wishes on shooting stars finally came true, though." Summer waved her hand as she yawned again, jaw creaking as she blinked the sleep from her eyes. "Your sprinting around woke the whole house, Rick. Come inside; both of you. I think breakfast is almost done." 

When Morty looked at Rick again, there was an unreadable look on his face before he jabbed a finger at the air in Morty's direction. "I s-swear to-- Morty, y-you're-- I'm gonna b-bitch slap you s-so hard that y-y-you'll get knocked into another dimension- I swear to fucking _Christ_ , Morty." 

As Summer heaved Morty into the house by his hood, he let a smile form on his face, fiddling with the hem of his sweater as he followed Summer downstairs. He was really beginning to believe Rick missed him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I had finals and shit before I could work on this story anymore but I got it done so now I have a butt-load of freetime, which I plan on pouring out into this!

The short break didn't last nearly as long as Morty wished it had, and soon an announcement was made that school was to resume the following Monday. It was Wednesday when they heard it, which meant that most the kids had enough time to get their shit together. Anything they'd learned was to be discarded as the teachers were going to pick up where they'd left off before the G-Fed swarmed.

The school made it clear that attending during this 'beta' phase was optional, but Jerry convinced Beth to make at least Morty go, and the mental countdown began. Morty wasn't the only one upset about this unfair treatment, and Rick argued with Jerry that if Morty had to go, then Summer had to go, but since Summer was 18, she was free to do whatever she wanted.

"Let's ju-URS-st ditch Earth," Rick suggested that night, waving his flask in the air from his spot on the carpet. "W-We can travel th-URH- t-the galaxy. Just Rick and M-Morty, a thousand years."

While Morty wouldn't admit that the thought crossed his mind, he'd rather attend school than up and leave his family, something he knew Rick was content with doing at any moment.

Days passed quickly, and with each sunset, Morty found himself dreading Monday even more than usual. School meant Brad and Brad meant more bruises he'd have to cover, and if Rick went as far as to kill Mr. Jellybean for even trying to touch Morty, he feared what would come Brad's way if Rick found out. If Morty was cautious enough, though, maybe Rick wouldn't.

As Rick snored softly in his ear, hugging him tighter since the night on the roof- since Summer told Rick that Morty was depressed-, Morty prayed that Brad wouldn't hurt him the moment they saw each other- prayed that Brad wouldn't hurt him for the rest of the school year- prayed that Brad wouldn't even _show up_  for the rest of the school year. Morty hoped, prayed, and wished on all the stars he could count on the astrology posters around his room, but the sinking feeling of dread in his gut taunted him, saying that all his wishes wouldn't come true.

When Morty tried to get up, feeling claustrophobic and just honestly wanting to get away from everything, Rick hummed against his neck and pulled him in tighter, and Morty was glad he didn't leave because he didn't know how much he needed a hug in that exact moment.

Sunday began early, the day beginning when Rick stirred and sat up, prying his arms free from the smaller boy with a groan as he hunched himself slightly over his knees. Morty remained still, keeping his breath even as he listened to Rick lean over the side of the bed to scoop up the flask he'd ditched on the ground. The bed creaked under the shift, and Rick muttered something under his breath as he got up. Morty turned slightly, squinting through the morning glare to watched Rick stretch, his back popping a few times, and he pulled his belt from the chair to loop it through the belt loops of his pants. He didn't even look back as Morty sat up in response, rubbing his tired eyes.

"What time is it?" Morty yawned, looking at his alarm clock for an answer before cringing. 6:19. This was _way_  too early.

"Too goddamn early," Rick grumbled in response, and Morty chuckled internally at the similar reaction before he yawned again, stretching his arms up to the ceiling. A mistake, he realized soon after, as Rick chucked the flask in his hands at the sleepy boy during his moment of vulnerability, making Morty yelp as he fumbled to catch the container. "I'm g-gunna go take a shit. Put some ice in that, w-w-w-would'ja?"

And Morty, being the guinea pig that he is, pulled himself out of bed and did what he was asked to do.

He and Rick were the first ones awake, the house silent and glowing with faint morning sunlight as Morty pulled the freezer door open and grabbed the ice tray, rubbing his thumb across the flask mindlessly, and yet with the comforting reminder that Rick was home in his hand, Morty still thought about Brad.

Since day 1, he'd been coming up with excuses depending on how bad they were: a cut on his face meant somebody accidentally hit him with a locker; bruises on his arms were when he tripped down the school stairs; a black eye/busted lip/bloody nose meant he got rekt by an upperclassman in PE; just simple little believable things he's never had to say to anybody because, in all honesty, who in his family cared enough to notice if he came downstairs with a bandage on his forehead to get an ice pack to put on the bruises forming on his ribs? Nobody; they all had their own problems.

Well, now there was somebody, and Morty was terrified.

It wasn't like he could just go up to Brad and say, "Hey, uh, my really protective grandpa is home and if he sees any signs of physical abuse on my person he'll literally kick your ass into another dimension and then dismember you alive"? Not likely, especially because Morty wasn't even sure if Rick would give a shit if he noticed Morty's bully-inflicted wounds.

And that was just it: if. In the beginning, Morty had gotten used to hiding his injuries, even more so after Summer's friends noticed. The conversation was actually kind of funny, and slightly depressing in a certain light. Summer was just about to head out with friends, and Morty was in the living room, watching TV when they knocked. He answered the door a few moments before Summer came barreling down the stairs, but she was quick enough to hear one of them ask, "Dude, what happened to your face?"

While Morty struggled to remember the excuse he'd made, Summer slid past him and said, "He falls down the stairs a lot. It happens. He's fine," and shut the door without passing him another glance. In reality, Morty had expected as much, but it still kind of upset him that Summer came home later and still never asked, believing what'd she'd said so much that she wasn't worried about what really happened.

Conroy had only mentioned it once before giving him a pat on the back and dose of pain relievers and calling it good, which was _still_ more than what Jerry or Beth said to him. Again, not like Morty minded; he'd rather be a wallflower than worry his family.

The ice cube Morty was trying to force down the throat of the flask suddenly popped in, and Morty let out a surprised yelp, jumping back against somebody's chest, which just made him freak out harder as he ducked and moved away from the person behind him, flask still in his hand. Rick gave him an unimpressed look before holding out his hand, and Morty handed him the container wordlessly. Rick shook it a bit, listening to a few cubes hit the sides, before shrugging and taking a long drink.

"Thanks, ki-IIIUR-id," was all he said as he turned on his heel, downing the drink as he walked to the garage door, and Morty went back upstairs for a bit of free time before school the next morning.

 

* * *

 

Morty honestly had no idea why he bothered going to school that day.

Sunday ended about as uneventful as it began, with Rick (with surprising calmness) coming into his room and sitting on the bed in silence, flask hanging uselessly in his hand while Morty finished up his homework at his desk and turned to look at his quiet grandpa in just enough time to watch Rick set the flask on the nightstand, shrug off his coat, rip off his sweater, and bury himself in Morty's blankets. Morty was honestly a little taken aback, staring at his notebook of constellations before setting it down on his desk and climbing into the space between Rick in the wall, squawking when the blankets opened and swallowed him whole with Rick's attempt to tuck them both in whilst he was still in bed, smothering his face into Morty's hair and making some crude comment on how he smelt like sweat. Morty responded that he was planning on showering tomorrow just to be greeted by a snore. When he woke up next, Rick wasn't in bed, despite it being practically 6 in the morning.

After a much-promised shower and a change into a Galaxy Cat shirt and pair of jeans, he began downstairs, worming his arms through the holes of a red flannel as the smell of pancakes and lunch meat met his nose. Expecting his mom at the stove, Morty allowed his mouth to curve into a smile, a greeting on his tongue when he walked in, and stopped from the shock.

Instead of Beth standing at the oven, frying pan in one hand and spatula in the other, Rick took her place, a faint smile and look of content on his face as he gently pried the pancake from its hold on the pan, successfully flipping the fried batter over with an obviously perfected ease. On the counter next to him sat a loaf of bread with a jar of mayo and a knife slathered with the substance, bag of lunch meat open and ready to continue being prepared. There were three sandwiches, one of which was already done, and the other two were just awaiting meat. For a brief moment, Morty wondered if he was still sleeping, and just imagining that Rick was preparing not only breakfast but also what looked like a packed lunch, but that thought diminished when Rick glanced up at him, then back at the stove, staring at it lazily as he knocked back a gulp of whatever liquid he kept in his flask.

"Good, you're up. C-Could you do me a-- could y-y-you finish those sandwiches? Make yourself some, too, if you w-w-want."

"W-W-Who are they for?" Morty asked as he stepped up, folding the flannel sleeves up to just above his elbows and set to work, ignoring the loud burp Rick let out nearly next to his ear.

"Beth. S-S-She has her first day of w-w-w-work again today so I figured-- I thought I'd--" Morty looked up as Rick burped, nearly stabbing a pancake in frustration. "Fuck it. They're for Beth."

"O-Oh," Morty hummed as he looked back down, grabbing out some bread for himself. "Th-That's really nice of you, R-R-Rick--"

"Je-Jesus, Morty, a-a-a-am I no-URp-t allowed to treat my d-daughter right without you g-g-getting up in my grill? Fucking Christ, if I don't, th-the-th-then who f-fu-UHHR-cking will? D-Don't fu-- S-Stop patronizing me."

Morty held up his hands, holding the knife handle with his thumb against his palm as he grimaced, leaning away from Rick's biting tone. "I didn't even s-s-say anything!"

"Just shut u-URUUH-p."

Once Morty finished making his lunch, he packed his and Beth's into respective plastic baggies, shoving the three for Beth into one paper bag and his two into another, feeling his lips pout in irritation.

"Do y-y-you want me to pack some Capri Suns in there, too?" Morty snapped sarcastically, and the look he received from Rick made him realize it wasn't worth it.

"What? No? She's not e-e-eleven, Morty, unlike y-you. If you wa-w-want to take some Capri Suns with you like y-y-you're still in kindergarten then do it. Just don't take any s-s-strawberry-kiwi ones, o-o-or I'll kick your a-UUR-ss."

Morty ultimately decided against it as he put the bags in the fridge, shutting the door and turning on his heel to head back upstairs to get his shit (for school) together. He didn't make it very far, and as Rick grabbed onto the bottom of his flannel with a "Hey, hey, hey!", Morty turned and looked back at him, not entirely aware of his furrowing eyebrows as he met Rick's aggravated gaze. "I get you w-w-w-wanna rub one off before school and everything but at least have-- a-at least fucking stay for breakfast."

"I was just g-going to get my bag," Morty muttered as he pulled back slightly, tugging the flannel from Rick's loose grip.

"You can do that later. Now hu-hurry up, before I eat a-URP-- all this."

Morty gave a skeptical look at the pancake still in the pan. "You g-g-gonna eat the one straight from the p-pan?"

"I'll eat the pan."

"Wow, uh..."

"Go get your shit, Morty," Rick huffed as he turned back to the stove, jabbing the spatula under the over-done pancake in disdain, and Morty crossed his arms, a smirk growing across his face.

"N-No, I think I want to watch you eat the pan."

A snort escaped the brunet teen as Rick raised a hand to flip him off, and the smirk was replaced with a smile as he moved around the kitchen, pulling out a few plates and grabbing some silverware, making his way to the dining room and setting two plates down where he assumed he and Rick would sit. A few moments later, Rick walked out with a large plate piled high with fluffy pancakes, and Morty watched him scooped half onto his plate and give Morty three. Morty contemplated complaining just for the sake of complaining, knowing he would probably barely finish 2 1/2, and decided not to, sitting down as Rick placed the plate in the middle of the table and sat in front of his plate, grinning down at his creation.

Morty tried to ignore how Rick waited for Morty's reaction before biting into his own serving, sitting silently while Morty picked up the syrup and was about to douse them when Rick's arm flew out and knocked the bottle away, earning a screech of surprise from Morty.

"W-W-Wha--"

"Try them without!" Rick offered, holding a fork up into the air as Morty squinted at him incredulously. "I tried something different and I ne-need to kno-URUWH if it's good."

Suppressing an eye roll with a sigh, Morty picked up his fork and stabbed a part of the cake off, eyeing it suspiciously before tentatively putting it on his tongue, and nearly melting. Whatever Rick had done to them made them three-thousand times better than Beth's, and that was saying something, and Morty practically moaned at the flavor. No need, apparently, because instantly Rick's face lit up with the biggest smile Morty had ever seen on him, and began to cut into his own.

"S-S-See, Morty? They're fine on their own; these are r-r- _real_ pancakes! No syrup needed!"

Even though Morty couldn't agree with his mouth stuffed with pancakes, it didn't matter, Rick's ego high enough to not need confirmation, but despite it all, Morty couldn't help but think that this was the first normal breakfast in months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yet, as usual, I had a bunch more planned for this chapter but I'm going to have to shove it to Chapter 8 >:{
> 
> I'm sorry if things are annoyingly OOC; I'm trying to get better y^y


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**wow more abuse what'd morty do to deserve this** _

Monday had such a good start, and yet...

The school didn't have enough teachers for every grade to be separated, so half of the students that came were shoved into the auditorium, and the other half was shoved into the gym with no sense of organization. It was kind of like picking teams in PE; just point and say, 'Red team' or 'Blue team' and hope for the best. Naturally, people intermingled and switched out to be with their friends, and yet somehow Morty had ended up in the auditorium with Jessica and no Brad. While every other student had hung out with their friends before the teachers forced them into their respective room, Morty had found a spot in the theater and put his head down, echoes of his and Rick's laughter from the morning bouncing in his head, despite him trying to drown out the sounds with music. Somehow he missed the commotion as people came in, and he was lucky he didn't piss himself when somebody tickled the back of his exposed neck, causing him to sit upright and pull his earphones out at the same time. The giggle in response was definitely feminine.

"Can I sit here?"

Morty, again, was lucky he didn't shit himself as he looked up at the purple blouse wearing redhead named Jessica. He had no time to react as she took the seat next to him, smiling at the floor as she set her bag next to her feet, and Morty watched her friends contemplate sitting down before moving further into the stadium, towards more friends.

"D-Don't you want to sit with your friends?" Morty practically whimpered and mentally kicked himself as she fluttered her eyelashes at him, still smiling.

"They'll be fine," she dismissed, flicking her wrist as she looked to where they sat, a few looking back with confused expressions. Morty made eye contact with the 16-year-old, who fumbled and quickly spun to look forward. Morty raised an eyebrow as Jessica continued to speak: "I don't really feel I fit in with them all together. Individually, yes, but as a group? No."

"O-O-Oh, uh..." Morty swallowed the large nervous lump in his throat and tried to clear his mind of the 'fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck' haze that spread over it as he played with the sleeve of his flannel, feeling his knee beginning to bounce and skin begin to crawl as he realized just how close they were sitting. Their elbows were practically touching. "S-Sorry," he said, and then wished the floor would open under his feet and devour him as his voice choked up. If Jessica noticed, she didn't care as she gave a half-hearted shrug and fixed her bangs.

"Yeah, it's kind of whatever. I'm just glad Brad isn't here." Her giggle at the end only added to Morty's growing anxiety as he realized that if Brad _were_  here and saw how close they were, saw the _looks_  she was giving him (oh god, those looks- he was going to _die_ ), Morty wouldn't have to worry about anything else because he'd be six feet under.

Morty chuckled awkwardly, running his hand through his hair, and wished class would start already. Or that one of Jessica's friends would come drag her away so he didn't have to worry about the possibility of Brad finding out. His ribs were still bruised all to hell.

...Huh.

Luck was really on his side; he practically slept shirtless every night, and yet Rick never noticed them. Guess there's really nothing to worry about, then; Rick's just as oblivious as the rest of his family. The information should've been a relief, but Morty felt himself frowning as a weight set in his heart, not even aware of his slumping shoulders or Jessica's mildly concerned gaze at his sudden change in demeanor.

"Alright, everybody!" The loud voice booming from all the speakers caused half the room to jump, and even Jessica made a noise of surprise as she and Morty looked forward. "Thank you for joining us in this beta phase." A man, nearly as tall as Rick but probably no older than Beth, that Morty had never seen before, stepped from backstage to center stage, folding his arms behind his back. From where Morty was sitting, he could hear a few girls swoon at his 'formal office' attire.

"I'd call him 'daddy' any day," one muttered to her friend, causing them both to giggle while Morty felt himself make a face, practically jumping out of his skin when Jessica's elbow knocked with his, and he looked at her to see her making the same face he was as the whispers continued.

"Is he wearing gauges?!"

"Omigod he _totally_  has sex hair right now."

"Excuse me, I think my ovaries exploded."

"Allow me to introduce myself," he began, holding an arm out to fix his sleeve. "My name is Mr. Diaz; I'm originally an 11th-grade science teacher, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I'm not going to bother with attendance or introduction games since we're on a limited time crunch, but- Yes?"

Everybody looked to the kid raising their hand, and they stood and practically screamed down: "When does school end today?"

"It's technically half-days for the remainder of the year."

The room was filled with groans and 'why did I even come's, Morty and Jessica among them.

"Which reminds me." He clapped, nearly right into the mic, and all talking ceased. "Due to the fact that nobody is forcing you to be here, you can leave at any time."

Morty nearly laughed at how many people stood and head to the back, including most of Jessica's friends.

"Coming, Jess?" one asked, stopping and looking at her expectantly as Morty watched the 16-year-old slide into the row in front of him and sit one seat to the right of him, and he contemplated vaulting over the seat to sit next to her. He would if Jessica left.

"Uh..." she drawled, tapping the arm of her chair, and Morty swore he saw he look at him before shaking her head. "Nah. I'm going to stay. I'm kind of interested in what's going to happen."

And so Morty stayed planted in his seat, floored by confusion and the fact that he nearly just spat his heart out, and thought about jumping over the seat the entire class.

 

* * *

 

"Hey, Morty!"

Practically losing his shit, Morty jumped so hard he smacked the back of his hand on his locker door, hissing and doubling over in pain before snapping upright and leaning casually against the locker next to his, ignoring the pulsing in his hand. "Yes?"

His antics drew a laugh out of Jessica, who held her hand up to her face to hide her large grin as she tried to ask about the homework, barely making the words out without laughing again. Despite this, Morty still found himself smiling, glad that his awkward fumble made her laugh. She took in a deep breath and tried again: "Do you understand the homework?"

Morty opened his mouth, the words 'No, sorry, I don't' already on his tongue when he paused, looking at the sheet she was handing to him. His eyes flicked over the words before he sucked his bottom lip in, gnawing it as he nodded slightly. "Uh, y-yeah?" He did?

"Awesome!" she took the paper back and looked at it herself, as if trying to figure out how to do it herself before she dared do what Morty worried she was about to. "Think you could help me with it?"

And there it was. A question even bigger than 'will you go out with me' in some cases, and Morty had to stop to think about the consequences. In one hand, he'd be able to spend time with Jessica, but in the other sat just one word: Brad. Was it worth some broken ribs?

Fuck yeah it was.

"Y-Yeah, sure thing!" Morty said, smiling, and he had absolutely no time to react as somebody tore him backward, tripped him, and watched as his skull connected with the tiles.

"Brad, what the shit?!" Jessica instantly yelled as a flash of green covered Morty's gaze, and the toes of somebody's shoe dug into his ribs yet again, causing Morty to yelp out in pain at the repeated abuse. Jessica continued to swear as Brad swung a leg around and collapsed his weight onto Morty's gut, but that was nothing compared to the powerful blow to his cheekbone, and Morty heard his teeth click together as his head once again knocked against the floor. "You lunatic; get off him!"

"Stay the fuck away from Jessica, you freak!" Brad screamed as he bundled Morty's shirt in his grip, letting go with one hand to draw it back and deliver a strong punch to Morty's nose. Morty braced, but it never came, and Brad's weight was suddenly gone. Morty cracked an eye open to watch Mr. Diaz and Jessica, both holding onto some part of Brad's clothing, heave the athlete off him, but he kept struggling until Jessica let go and gave him a hard slap across the face.

"You're the freak, Brad!" she snarled, backing towards Morty and kneeling to nearly gather him entirely in her arms, Morty pushing her slightly away out of habit as he got to his feet, Jessica holding his elbow. "Stay away from Morty."

Brad said nothing else, letting Mr. Diaz take him away while Morty took his arm from Jessica slowly and shut his locker, turning back towards her, plastering a fake smile on his face.

"R-R-Rea-" he began, but could barely finish as Jessica looked up and asked him suddenly: "Are you okay?"

Taken aback by the question, Morty's smile slipped, and he nodded, resisting the urge to rub the back of his head and check for bleeding. "Y-Yeah, I'm fine. Uh... d-did you still want help on your homework?"

"No, it's fine," she shook her head, touching his arm again, visibly frowning when Morty took his arm out of her reach. "Do you... need to go to the hospital?"

"Oh, Jesus, no!" he held his hands up, tensing at the idea. What would he tell his family if they found out? "Uh... I-I'll be fine. Th-Th-Thank you, though."

And with that, Morty picked his bag off the ground and began to the doors, trying not to wince or limp too hard, until somebody grabbed his shoulder, and Morty practically threw himself against the lockers in fear.

"Oh, shit, sorry," Jessica apologized, and Morty raised an eyebrow as she continued: "On second thought, I could use the help. Your place?"

But it wasn't a question as she linked her fingers with his and nearly dragged him out of the building. It didn't take Morty long to figure out why she suddenly cared, and he dug his heels into the sidewalk, causing her to pull short as he rooted himself in place, taking the fighting stance Rick had taught him one night that evened out his weight. "Like a tree," Rick had told him while Morty tried to shove him over, and Morty originally had thought it was because he was weak, but then Rick loosened, took his normal posture, and was thrown on his ass as Morty lunged. Rick had complimented his strength then, and once again when he couldn't knock Morty over.

"Why not yours?" he asked, trying not to ignore the sudden control in his voice.

The question seemed to surprise her, and her gaze flicked from the sidewalk to his face and back again. "B-Because? My house is a mess."

"Then let's go to the park, or a-a- a cafe. I can b-buy us something."

"Why not _yours_?" she suddenly demanded, and Morty flinched at her tone.

"Mine's a m-m-mess, too. My parents aren't home, and S-Summer's been out with friends since last n-night."

The lie at least made Jessica pause, but she still squinted at him skeptically. "And your grandpa? Rick?"

Morty shrugged, and Jessica sighed, her pull on his arm loosening as she walked up to face him. "Okay, fine, we'll go to the park, but only if you promise you'll tell your family about Brad."

"They don't care," Morty snarled under his breath, and he pulled Jessica towards the stoplight so they could safely cross to the nearest park, her concerned gaze hot on the back of his head, but Morty ignored it and told himself it was just the pain flaring back up so he didn't feel bad. It would've been easier to say 'okay'.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things get kinda weirdly heated in this chapter, but it's in an innocent sense, even if, y'know, _somebody_ ( ~~Beth~~ ) doesn't think so. It's also heavily dialogue-driven so :{
> 
> I also lowkey hate this chapter; it kinda sucks. Like, more than Mharti, and Mharti sucks a lot. I'll probably come in later and fix it up a bit :b sorry

Morty stared wordlessly at his phone, blinking at it from his spot on his bed. His cheek and palm was numb from the ice pack he had resting against it, and he adjusted his fingers again as he let out a shaky sigh down at the new contact in his phone: Jessica, followed by three hearts. When he'd walked her home after helping her with the homework, she demanded his phone, and Morty had given it to her without thinking about the possibility she'd text his sister and tell her what happened at school. She didn't, luckily, and after typing on it for a few seconds and calling her own cell from his, she locked it and gave it back, telling him to text her if Brad was being a douche again.

"Since, y'know," she shrugged as Morty stared at his phone and the contact name in which she filed herself under, "I have dirt on him and can ruin his life if he ever tries to hurt you again. You're a good kid, Morty. Feel free to text me anytime."

And then she proceeded to kiss the cheek that wasn't turning purple and blue, and Morty honestly thought he'd died on the school floor because the events that followed after were definitely not happening.

Plot twist: they were, and Morty was on cloud nine.

It died down after a while, and he made it home without dying on the street from a heart attack, which he would've honestly preferred over the possibility of Rick noticing his wounds and flipping out. As he predicted, nobody was home, and he was free to take out a zip-lock baggie full of ice and head up to his room, ice to his cheek and gauze in his arms from the garage to wrap his abused ribs, and he was glad nobody was home to hear the girly squeal he let out when Jessica sent him a message. It wasn't anything special, a simple question asking if it was alright if she could put him under 'Mortimer', to which he said 'sure', which was a hell-of-a-lot calmer than the 'omigod yes' he screeched to his wall. Once he hit send, he nearly threw the phone to the floor as he ripped his shirt off, and instantly regret it as pain crawled up his side, eating the small amount of muscles he'd built up there and nearly caused him to collapse in pain. His adrenaline was at an all-time high, and he honestly had no idea when the smile that caused his cheeks to hurt would die down, but he didn't care as he walked to the mirror in the corner of his room and looked at the damage. A larger, already-green bruise had formed, stretching out with some of the faded ones to create something that almost looked like the head (or the butt?) of a plumbus, and Morty sighed as he walked back to his bed, grabbed the gauze, and walked back to make sure he bandaged himself right.

And then he sat down and stared at his phone as if he couldn't believe it, because he couldn't. There was no way he actually got Jessica's number. He told himself it was out of pity; she'd been there, and felt like she _had_  to give him her number, but something inside Morty told him he'd be happier without it.

There were a couple of times that Morty wanted to stand up and pull on a sweater to reduce the risk of ~~Rick~~  somebody walking in and seeing him on his bed, shirtless, covered with gauze with an ice pack on his face, but never did, figuring it'd be a while longer before anybody came home.

He realized his mistake as soon as his door [caved in](http://data.whicdn.com/images/196676663/large.png), Morty dropping his phone and shielding his face from imaginary chunks of wood with a surprised cry. Unsurprisingly, Rick was to blame, casually sucking on his flask with a lazy expression despite the fact that he literally just kicked Morty's door in, the expression never faltering as he heel-kicked the door back into its place.

"I-I-Is that how you always come in when I'm not home?!" Morty gawked, surprised mainly at the fact that his door hasn't exploded yet, as he got to his feet, nearly diving for his closet as Rick's eyes widened slightly.

"Oh, M-M-Morty! You're home. W-Wha-UHH-t, d-di-d-d-did you ditch?"

"No," he squeaked, aware of Rick entering the room and throwing himself on the bed. "It ended."

"So s-s-SOOUHN?"

"Yes, Rick, s-s-s-so soon." Morty grabbed a gray sweater and threw it on, making sure it went down to his waist before stepping from the closet, closing the door. He didn't think it was important to tell Rick that he was out with Jessica for an hour before coming home, so he held his tongue as he approached where he'd thrown his phone to find it gone.

"Looking for t-this?"

Morty looked up to see his phone in Rick's hand, flask in the other, a smirk on his face.

"So you g-g-go-UHN-na get laid tonight or what?"

"N-N-No, now give it back." Morty reached for it, but Rick 'tsk'ed and leaned back, pulling it away.

"Yeah, not with that attitude. W-What, you're telling me that, now that you have Jessica's number, you're n-not gonna-- s-she's not even slightly thinking of s-s-sucking your dick?"

Morty practically cringed in on himself. "Please don't s-say anything about my d-d-di-- A-Anyway, this is Jessica! She- there's no way she thinks about me like that." Before Rick could respond, Morty leaped for his phone. "Give me my phone back, R-Rick!"

"Nnnnnnope!" Rick swung his legs onto the bed so he was lying down, resulting in Morty flopping onto his legs, nearly knocking his cheek on his knees. "C'mon. If you're sc-c-c-s-scared, I can ask. I can text her right now: 'So how 'bout some tits in exchange for some co--'"

"Rick, no!" Morty's voice totally didn't crack as he clambered onto the bed, slammed his fists into Rick's chest, and knocked the phone away, sending it spiralling further into the room.

"H-Hey, now, do you know how much that phone cost?"

"I don't care-"

"More than your left hand, I'll tell you that."

"Y-Y-Y-You're not ruining my chance with Jessica!"

"Who sa-AII-d anything about ruin?"

"Me! Because that's what you'd do if you text her!"

"Jesus Christ, Morty!" Rick held his hands up as best he could while being straddled by his grandson. "Learn to take a j-joke; fuck."

"Thhh-That wasn't funny!"

Rick made a noise in the back of his throat, letting his arms fall, attaching themselves loosely to Morty's hips in a way that made him jump slightly, and that's when their position made itself known. From an outsider, this would look _reeeaallly_ wrong, and Morty bit his bottom lip as he began to think of quick escape routes in the event that somebody were to walk in. If Rick noticed, he didn't care as he ran a thumb absently against the fabric of Morty's jeans, spacing off in deep thought.

"When were you going to tell me?"

Morty froze at the feeling of his shirt rising as Rick pulled it up, revealing the white medical material beneath, and his heart stopped as Rick ran his thumb over it tenderly, not wanting to hurt Morty if he brushed the injury he was trying to cover. "I--"

"You weren't going to, were you?"

Morty gulped.

"I'm not stu-- I'm not an idiot, Morty," Rick hissed, brow furrowing at how much gauze was wrapped around his grandson's torso. "I noticed ages ago. How long has this been going on?"

"Uhm-"

"Wha-"

Time froze, Morty craning his neck around as Rick peered between his arm and chest to see Beth's eyes widening inhumanly as she took in the situation. It didn't take brains to assume what was happening: Morty, red-faced and sweaty from diving after his phone in a sweater, straddling Rick, who still had his hands on Morty's hips, fingertips just barely under the gray fabric. If this didn't spell 'trouble', then who the hell knew what did.

"Be--"

Rick couldn't even get one syllable out before Morty's mother turned on her heel, and ran away.

"Shit." Morty yelped when Rick nearly chucked him off, nearly knocking himself on the wall as Rick flipped off the bed and somehow landed on his feet, running after his daughter, Morty following closely. While Rick practically vaulted off the stairs, Morty took his time, grabbing just under his bruise as he limped his way to the kitchen, where Rick was trying to calm Beth down as she poured herself a glass of wine.

"No, no, it's fine. It's fine!" she swirled, splashing some wine to the tiles, a few drops coming up and landing on her bare foot. "You said it's not what it looked like, so fine! I'll believe you! I've been suspecting as much for a while, and--"

"What?" Morty squawked, disgusted looks crossing his and Rick's faces. "You really think we'd _do_  that?!"

"You really think _I'd_  do that? To Morty? _With_  Morty??"

"I don't know _what_  to think, Rick!" Beth snarled, slamming the glass down and pointing a finger at the both of them. "I've seen so much already, with Morty sneaking around the house, hiding things with big sweaters and small steps, and I've just turned a blind eye because 'Oh, no, Dad wouldn't do that' but I've never been sure!"

So that's what Beth was thinking: she thought ignoring Morty's attempts at hiding the wounds inflicted at school were attempts at hiding a scandalous, incestuous relationship. How many other members of his family thought the same thing?

The realization was such a punch to the gut that Morty had to turn around and head back upstairs before he lost it.

He remembered talking to Rick about alternate realities in which they were in a relationship, but never wanted to believe it himself, because ew? Rick was old and gross and was probably loaded with alien STDs (which he probably cured himself being as he could literally invent anything he wanted but that's not the point), and he even said himself that if there was a universal constant, it's that Ricks don't care about their Mortys.

...But his Rick cared about him.

Even if he tried to deny it, he had no problem with expressing it with his actions, and that's what tripped Morty up the most, because if his Rick gave at least half a shit about him, then that meant that there were alternate realities where a Rick gave more than shit about a Morty, and that meant that there was definitely the possibility that a reality existed where they were in a loving relationship.

"Eugh," Morty vocalized as he closed his door, lip curling in disgust. That was an image he'd rather not see again. Shaking the thought from his head, Morty fell onto his bed, sighing as he stared at his roof before he looked in the direction where his phone flew, squinting to see if the screen had lit up with a notification to decide if it was worth it or not to get up. He decided it wasn't, and looked back to the ceiling, mind completely void of thought until the door once again clicked open, and he leaned up to watch Rick walk in and shut the door behind him. "H-H-How is she?"

"She went back to work," Rick said, hovering by the door for a few seconds as he stared at the floor, and Morty felt his gut twist as Rick met his gaze with a smirk. "Which means we have t-the house alllll to ourselves."

"Oh, God," Morty choked, and Rick snorted, breaking character.

"That the sexiest thing you could think of?"

"W-W-Why the hell would I think of something 'sexy'?" No wonder Beth thought there was something between them.

"It's a _joke_ ," Rick rolled his eyes, flinging himself on the bed, sitting cross-legged as he fiddled with his flask. "Anyway, we weren't done."

Morty took in a small breath through his nose and closed his eyes, reaching up subconsciously to rub the welt growing on the back of his head. "Do we have to do this now? I'm kind of tired."

Rick's eyes narrowed, and his hand shot out to grab Morty's shoulder and rip him forward, causing him to yelp as he folded in on himself, faceplanting into Rick's chest as his grandpa pressed around Morty's skull until he hissed in pain. "Jesus Christ, what the hell did you hit? A wrecking ball?"

Morty didn't respond as he fought himself from Rick's grip, the quick motion as he ripped backward making him lightheaded.

"You're not sleeping anytime soon with that thing, kid, so start talking."

Morty held his silence as he reached down and grabbed the melted ice from the floor and frowned at it. As long as the sun was up, Rick was liable to hunt down Brad so Morty wouldn't say a word. Rick seemed to figure this out on his own as he crossed his arms, brow arching in the way it did when he was unimpressed. "Okay. Two can play at this game." And then he stood, and Morty, despite himself, watched him. "I have something to do, but when I come back, I expect answers. Find something to occupy yourself, and  _don't_  go to sleep."

With that, he left the room, and Morty waited until the house was silent to take his socks and jeans off, shrug off his sweater, and roll over, fully intending on taking a nap, and that's exactly what he did.

 

* * *

 

Morty woke to screaming. It wasn't, like, horror-film levels of screaming, but it was loud, and it was _mad_ , and something told Morty to panic, but he didn't, because the moment his brain yelled 'PANIC', he recognized the voice and what they were saying.

"You stupid fucking dumbass, Morty; what was the one thing I told you to- _hey_! I see you waking up, you piece of sh-sh-shit! Get up!"

And Morty did. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, glaring up at Rick for waking him. The clock next to him read 7:16, which still wasn't late enough. The moment his back hit the wall, Rick shoved something foul-smelling under his nose, and he recoiled with a groan. "Rick, what-"

"I went out to get you something for your head a-a-a-and I come back to this disrespect. W-W-What makes you think I deserve this?!"

"Do I have to answer?" Morty mumbled as he took the cup-like object from Rick's grip and squinted at it (oh, god, was that an eyeball?).

"C-C-C-Cocky fucker. Just drink that a-a-and shut the fuck up."

If it smelt bad, it tasted worse, and Morty nearly vomited after he had a few sips. Rick was scowling as he told him to drink it all, and Morty did, not sure if he was lightheaded from the flavor, lack of breath, or whatever was in it.

"Great," Rick said, snatching the cup away and pushing Morty against the wall. "Now stay the fuck here. Don't move or I'll cut your pinkies off."

Morty decided not to test it, looking over to where his phone was to find it gone and sitting on the nightstand. He sighed, resisting the urge to grab it as he looked back towards the door, which was still open, so Morty could see when Rick was done with whatever he went to do, and raised an eyebrow as Rick shut the door and threw another icepack at him.

"For your cheek," he admit, and Morty pressed it against his skin gently.

"C-Can't you just heal it yourself?"

"Sure, after you tell me who did it."

Morty groaned and looked at his phone, but made no motion to grab it as he looked back up at Rick, who was still standing by the door expectantly. "If you knew," Morty began slowly, softly, "why hadn't you said anything?"

Rick sighed as he shrugged off his coat, simply dropping it to the floor as he grabbed Morty's computer chair and straddled it, leaning on the back as he rest his face on his arms, yet he was silent. Morty knew better than to expect an answer from Rick that'd even hint that he gave a shit, but he was determined, shifting over to face where Rick was sitting. He crossed his arms with a loud huff, Rick's eyes flicking from the ground to where Morty was now resting, and Morty could practically read Rick's thoughts- see his struggle: lose face, or act like normal and pretend he didn't give a shit. They were at an impasse; a dead end that Morty didn't feel like rubbing his dick all over, so he sighed, letting his arms fall limp as he muttered: "Brad."

Rick shot up, furrowing his brow at the name and barking, "The fucker that tried to fight Abradolf Lincler?"

Morty tried not to think about the sour taste in his mouth as he swallowed and murmured out, "Yeah." A voice in the back of his head told him he'd probably regret saying anything.

Rick slumped back against his arms and muttered a swear. "Because of that one-- that girl?"

Morty shrugged, but nodded anyway as he rubbed the back of the hand he smacked on his locker. "I-I think? I'm n-not sure anymore. S-S-Sometimes I don't even talk t-to her, and he still b-b-beats me up."

A dark look crossed Rick's face, and Morty instantly held his hands up as he covered with "I-I-I was talking with her today though! That's why he, uh... that's why he... y'know," and as he motioned vaguely to his torso, the look on Rick's face got darker, and the voice screaming that telling Rick was a mistake got louder. A little too late, though. "A-Anyway, it's fine. He, uh... I-I get it. It's fine."

Rick scoffed, so soft that Morty almost didn't hear it, and stretched backward, popping his back with a grunt. "Alright, well, th-that's a mystery solved. I've got some s-s-stuff to do in the garage."

As he stood, Morty nearly sprung from the bed, yelping out, "Wait!" Once Rick stopped, giving Morty a look of confusion, he settled back a bit and stuttered out: "U-Uh, d-d-don't, uh... don't try and get b-back at him or anything..."

His words died as the look Rick saved for only _really_  stupid people increased, and he rolled his eyes, digging his flask out just to fling it around in his clasped hand. "Morty, I'm not sadistic; I'm not going to abuse some kid."

And with that, he was gone, but not for long. At roughly midnight, Morty's door slammed open, loud enough to rouse the snoozing boy, and if that didn't wake him, then Rick collapsing drunkenly on Morty's body did. It took a few more minutes for them both to fall asleep again, but the rest of the night was silent until Morty woke to find that Rick was gone.

**Jessica:**   _I think I might break up with Brad today._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two are the kings of 'It's Not What It Looks Like', aren't they jfc this chapter was rlly sexual and just so bad im so sorry


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh wee this was a long'un! Sorry about that <3 I know it fell in and out of character a lot and it took me, like, three days to write this so the style changed a lot and its just-
> 
> A lot happened in this chapter, man. So much.
> 
> ~~this was actually one of my favorite chapters to write i like it a lot and i hope you guys do too ah jeez <3 ~~

Morty honestly had no idea how he was supposed to respond to that, so he didn't, settling with locking his phone back and setting it face down on his nightstand as he stared up at his ceiling in shock. She and Brad had been together for a really long time, and now, just because Brad, what, kicked Morty a little, she wanted to break up with him? Maybe it was a long time coming, but Morty couldn't think of anything to say to her other than 'don't do that', 'think about what you're doing', or 'why?', so he just didn't say anything.

Morty didn't even want to get out of bed.

The possibility of catching Jessica in the middle of breaking up with Brad was too high, the possibility of Brad coming and taking out his anger on him even higher, and as he laid in bed, thinking of good excuses to tell his mom as his stomach twisted and writhed with anxiety (and probably the soup he'd had yesterday), the only thing he could think to say made him sound like a little bitch, which he was. He was the biggest little bitch he knew, and he hated that, so he tried to find the will to pull his iron legs out of bed and face the day like a man- like the man he knew he wasn't, and almost let out a yell of frustration when he couldn't. Maybe the only will he needed to find was the one telling his family who his belongings went to. Rick would probably like the little box he'd bought at the fair; there was probably the key to the unlock everything in the universe hidden inside.

Morty didn't know how long he'd lied in bed until there was a knock on his door, and his mother peeked her head inside, eyes honing almost pitifully on her son, who probably looked like a man ready to be put in a coffin with how stiff he was. "Hey, how do you feel?"

Morty only groaned in response, hoping to get all his angst and depression out in one noise. He succeeded.

"Dad told me you're not feeling well, so you can stay home if you want."

"W-W-W-Where is he?" Morty asked, his voice annoying to his own ears and anxiety peaking as Beth looked away and sighed.

"He went to get ice cream."

_"If you go to where there's a bunch of ice cream and then you don't come back, you haven't actually gotten ice cream; you've just gone to where ice cream is."_

In an instant, all the anxiety Morty had been building up came crashing down on him with such force, he rolled over and upheaved the soup Rick had given him yesterday into an awaiting bucket that he knew was not normally at his bedside. Maybe Rick had put it there, suspecting him to vomit into it due to whatever the disgusting alien concoction he'd given his poor grandson. Beth made a cooing noise as she backed out of the room. "I'll bring you up some soup. Get some rest."

Morty groaned out again, this time more in physical pain than in emotional, and he rolled over and clutched at his side as Beth shut the door, glad she'd left before the frustrated tears began to roll down his cheeks. Just fuck this and fuck Brad and fuck Rick for giving him food poisoning and just  **fuck**.

Morty reached into his nightstand drawer and pulled out a stress ball, playing around with it as he took in a few deep breaths, just beginning to calm down when his door opened again, and Summer walked in, holding a tray with some crackers and soup, and a glass of OJ. The moment she'd stepped in, though, her face twisted in disgust, and she gagged out, "Euh, it smells like puke in here."

"O-Oh, imagine that, S-S-Summer," Morty bit back as he sat up, taking the tray from her.

"Jeez, be even more of a dick; that totally makes me want to bring you food in bed," she snapped, crossing her arms as she tried her hardest not to look at the bucket, instead settling on staring at Morty's wall, before she sighed and looked down at him, watching him prod at the soup in disinterest. "How do you feel?"

"L-Like shit," Morty admit, and Summer snorted, stepping over to grab his computer chair and wheel it over.

"You look like shit, too. Did you even sleep last night?"

He shrugged as he pulled up the soup spoon, staring at the noodle as his imagination told him it was a worm (did it just fu _cking twitch oh my g **od**_ ). "I think so. I-I think it's just because I'm s-sick."

She nodded, and rubbed her hands together as she glanced at the bucket, and immediately almost vomited herself. "Oh, God. What the hell did you eat yesterday?"

"S-S-Something Rick g-g-gave me. I didn't b-bother asking. I didn't w-w-want to know."

"Christ. It looks like the inside of a pig's ass."

"Y-Yeah. Tasted like it, t-too," he joked as he took a small sip of the broth, hoping that his stomach would allow it to stay down. Summer cringed and looked away from the bucket.

"For once I'm glad I'm not Rick's guinea pig."

Morty hummed, nearly spitting out the soup when the faint aftertaste of whatever Rick had given him rose in his mouth. "Yeah, i-it's not that great."

"Did he even tell you what it was for?"

Morty paused, lowering the bowl as he shook his head. "N-No, I--"

"He's not as no-nosy as you, _Summer_."

Rick's sudden appearance nearly caused Morty to knock over his OJ as he and Summer looked up at Rick, who was holding three cups, two in his hands and one in the crook of his elbow. "He kn-knows better than to questi-OOUN his grandpa. T-That's why he's my guinea pig and n-n-not you."

He practically chucked one of the cups at Summer, who took it and popped open the lid just to let out a gasp. "Ice cream?"

"Uh, duh-doi. Now get o-o-ou-OOouT of here; your b-b-boyfriend is waiting for you."

Taking the hint, Summer got up and left, passing a look over to Morty as she went. Morty raised his hand to wave, barely making it before Rick practically slammed the door, taking the ice cream from his elbow and handing Morty the cup that he was holding. Morty took it, popping the lid off to look down at, indeed, ice cream as Rick produced two plastic spoons, in wrappers, giving one to Morty, who thanked him as he stabbed the end into the bed to pop the plastic from its wrapping. "Wh-Where's this coming from?"

"Jeez, Morty, r-r-really proving me wrong here, aren't y-y-you?" Rick rolled his eyes as he jabbed his spoon into the frozen delish, and Morty fell into silence as he poked a little at his cup's contents.

"W-Well, it's just... this is a little out of n-nowhere--"

"Jesus Christ, can I _not_  just get ice cream? I'm not as selfi-- I think about my f-family, alright? Was that what you w-w-wanted? D-Did ya-- Did you get a niiiice boner from me saying that, Morty? Christ." Before Morty could say anything else, Rick shoved his spoon in his mouth and turned childishly away, proving that they were done with the subject, but that didn't stop Morty from thinking about it with a small smile at the admission, even if Rick didn't mean it and was just trying to get Morty to shut up.

"I-I appreciate it, Rick; thank you."

"Shut up, Mo-OOR-ty."

Morty weighed the cup in his hand before setting it down and grabbing the bowl still on his lap, going to take a sip when Rick suddenly bit out, "W-What, my ice cream not good enough for you?"

"That can wait," Morty said, looking through his eyelashes at his grandpa. "S-S-Summer, or Mom, made this for me; t-t-that was just-- you just b-bought that, y'know?"

"They 'just bought' that, too, you idiot. T-That came from a can."

Morty glared at him as he took a large gulp, nearly slamming the bowl down as he slurped up a noodle, Rick squinting at him the entire time before he let out a snort and stabbed his ice cream again with a muttered, "Dipass."

"C-C-Cockhead," Morty retorted, but still found a smile tugging the corner of his lips when Rick snorted again and let a grin slip, and a wave of happiness flooded over him as he realized for the umpteenth time that he had his grandpa back.

 

* * *

 

After talking and joking around with Rick a bit more, Rick finally told Morty that he was planning on going to where they serve the best fast food in the entire galaxy and that the ice cream was to get Morty's energy up so he didn't vomit in the ship like a total fuckface, earning a snarky remark from Morty ("O-O-Only you do that, Rick"), and Morty got a spoonful of Rick's ice cream to his forehead. Rick then nearly forced Morty out of bed to test how he was feeling, and since Morty didn't fall flat on his face the moment he stood, Rick deemed him okay enough to travel and demanded he get dressed for the trip before heading out of his room. Morty's phone binged occasionally, signifying either a message from Rick telling him to 'hurry the fuck up', or a message from Jessica. Lo-and-behold, it was Jessica.

 **Jessica:** _Are you here today?_  
**Jessica:** _The lecture is really boring, actually. I can't believe you left me alone with this._  
**Jessica:** _At least the teacher's cute._  
**Jessica:** _JK lol_

Morty felt like he should be happy with the sudden blow-up, and moved his thumbs to type a message when he decided to do it later and continued getting ready, choosing a loose maroon shirt and a pair of sweatpants to head out in, slipping the device in his pocket as he grabbed a pair of socks and began down the stairs. By the time he reached the bottom, a conversation reached his ears, and he slipped into the main hallway for his shoes as he listened.

"Hey, E-E-E-Ethan, h-how you feelin'? How do yo-you-- How's it feel to know that a shitstorm is populated inside you?" Rick asked, clearly mocking the fact that Anatomy Park had been a bust, with the builders not wanting to recreate his beloved attraction.

"Still not over Pirates of the Pancreas, huh?" Ethan chuckled, rubbing his chest fondly as Morty snuck in and sat next to Summer, Rick standing nearly entirely in front of the TV as he glared at Ethan as if it was his fault.

"That was the only thing Anatomy Park had going for it!" Rick snarled, pointing an accusing finger as Ethan pulled back, holding up his hands, Summer wrapping her arms protectively around him and saying something about it not being Ethan's fault, and Rick rolled his eyes and continued to jab with, "That's like taking the Ferris Wheel out of Disneyland." As Morty shoved his feet in his shoes, not really paying attention to a conversation he'd heard multiple times, Rick suddenly barked, "Isn't that right, M-Morty?"

"Yeah," was the automatic response, but the entire room could hear how trained he sounded so it drew a scoff out of both Summer and Rick while Ethan was trying not to appear as wounded as he really was. A losing game that Morty knew well.

"Wow, sound any more enthusiastic and y-y-you'll blow my eardrums out." A swift smack to the back of his head cause Morty to let out a grumbled 'ow', but Rick didn't wait to make sure he was okay as he grabbed Morty's arm and tugged him towards the garage.

"Sorry, jeez!" Morty yelped as Rick threw him in the ship, the shoe he'd dropped smacking the window next to him as he scrambled to sit upright in the passenger seat. "I wasn't paying attention."

"Yeah, like th-that's much of a surprise."

As the ship launched out of the garage towards the sky, Morty let himself huff as he bent to put his other shoe on, just for Rick to slam the brakes and send Morty's head smashing against the dashboard with another yelp. "O-Ow! Rick!!"

"S-S-Sorry, Morty. I wasn't paying attention to you."

"Okay! Jeez, I g-get it. I should p-pay attention more. You didn't have to-- you didn't need to do that!" Morty turned so he was facing Rick instead and continued to try and put his ~~stupid fucking~~  shoe on, glaring up at his grandpa to try and gauge if he was going to do it again, just to yell as Rick tapped the brakes, again, and launched Morty to hit his shoulder on the dashboard ("OW! S-S-Seriously?!"), but instead of jabbing at not paying attention like Morty thought he was going to, Rick snorted against the steering wheel and kept driving. Morty finally shoved his foot successfully into the shoe and turned back to face forward, grabbing the seatbelt and crossing it over his frame to buckle in so he didn't go flying through the windshield next time Rick decided to be a douchebag and hit the brakes again. Just in time, too, because right as the seatbelt clicked into place, Rick slammed the brakes hard enough to nearly launch the both of them out, despite the fact that Rick braced and Morty had the seatbelt (luckily) on. "W-W-What, Rick?" Morty snapped before he could stop himself as he pried the seatbelt from his chest a little so it didn't break his collarbone. "Comedy comes in threes?!"

"No, douchefart," Rick bit in return, jabbing a finger at the front of the ship. "Excuse me for not being in the mood to get in an accident!"

That's when Morty decided to look forward to see a larger ship, almost twice the size of Rick's, crossing right in front of them at a snail's pace, and as Morty's mouth fell open (not only in reaction to Rick's reaction time, but also the size in comparison), Rick let out an irritated growl and pushed the heel of his hand into the horn, just for the ship to shake as the other craft blared their yacht call at them. Letting out a huff, Rick jerked the ship to swerve beneath them and continue their journey towards...

"W-Where are we going, again?" Morty asked as he wiggled a finger in his ear to try and get rid of the ringing that settled after the other ship's honking.

"We're headed to Plintargn's!" Rick held his fist in the air with a hoot, adding a 'What-What!!' as Morty shrugged his shoulders to his ears and lifted his hand in a 'will-you-please-elaborate-a-little-I'm-still-lost' gesture as Rick leaned over and knocked him on his shoulder. "They have the best fast food in the entire galaxy, dawg! You're gonna love it!"

Before Morty could fully process what he'd said, Rick slapped the radio, filling the empty air in the ship with music Morty had never heard before, but that didn't block out the realization and surge of happiness that Morty felt when he realized that Rick was taking him out for the best fast food because he thought Morty would love it, and if that wasn't proof that Rick cared about him, then Morty didn't know what was.

 

* * *

 

"S-So what do you plan on getting?" Morty asked as the ship careened towards a small planet inhabited by only a large restaurant-looking building, and felt his mouth assume it's 'W' shape as Rick's grip on the steering wheel tightened.

"I'll tell you what I want, Morty," he bit, and slammed his fist on the wheel as he seethed. "I want Szechuan Sauce, but of course this place doesn't serve it because the universe hates me! So I'm getting the next best thing: Planfakes."

Morty wasn't sure what he wanted to ask about first: the sauce, or what sounded like the alien equivalent of pancakes. "Uh... S-Szech-what?"

"Szechuan Sauce!" Rick slammed the heel of his shoe into the dashboard next, and Morty flinched as the forced knocked some more of the ship apart, but if Rick noticed, he didn't care as he continued with his rant: "The damn sauce they used to advertise M-Mulan three decades ago- it's literally the best thing and _only_  thing, Morty, that I give a shit about and nowhere in this reality serves it! But I'll spend the next 97 years looking for it!"

"O-Okay, Rick--"

"It's _not_  okay, Morty!" Rick suddenly barked as he grabbed the hem of Morty's shirt and brought him up to his face, nearly reaching too-close-for-comfort levels as he gave Morty a hearty shake. "You're young and don't understand how delicious that sauce is, Morty, so you have n-n-no say on if it's okay or not, because let me tell you: it's not!"

"O-Okay! Jeez!" Morty pulled himself out of Rick's chaotic grasp, straightening his shirt a bit as he shifted a little out of Rick's reach and looked out the window.  _That's it- my grandpa's officially lost it._

The few minutes of silence ended when Rick parked the ship in one of the empty parking spaces, pushing the door open and stepping out as Morty unbuckled and did the same, shutting the door and walking around to stand next to Rick as he took a sip from his flask, chuckling as he elbowed Rick's arm slightly and joked, "H-Hey, isn't it weird how the planets we visit are oxygen-rich?"

"Th-EEUR not," Rick admit as he knocked another gulp back. "I gave you a shot that enables your body to adapt to whatever environment we go to quickly so you don't die."

"O-oh," Morty deflated slightly, perturbed by the thought of Rick stabbing him with needles without him knowing as he looked up at the top of the building where the name of the restaurant, squinting and sounding it out as he read. "P-Plin-Tar-Gin?"

Rick let out a scoff as he the lid of his flask closed and shoved it into his lab coat again. "Did you not hear me in the ship, Morty? It's Plin-tARN. The 'g' is silent."

Again, Morty deflated as he followed Rick in as he shoved the restaurant doors open, allowing the delicious smell of excellently-prepared food to waft around them, and they both breathed in holus-bolus. Rick pat his back as he motioned to a booth near the back, and Morty followed him closely as aliens conversed around them, the bustling of customers reminding Morty that he was probably missing school lunch around this time (totally fine by him; school food sucked). Rick slid into the booth facing the door, and Morty sat in front of him, staring at the open menu in front of him, already pre-laid for whoever sat. They must get a lot of business if it meant that they had to put the menus out instead of having somebody else come and give it, but he barely got to read any of the options when Rick grabbed it from him and flipped a few pages (it was like a mini book or something; how many pages does a menu need?!) before handing it back, and Morty thanked him as words he recognized met his eyes, including the words 'English Section; Courtesy of Rick Sanchez' at the top.

"Hello!"

The voice made Morty jump so high that he almost banged his knees on the table, and he looked up from the menu at an alien woman wearing the type of attire one would see at a Starbucks: green apron with deep gray undershirt, her purple hair pulled back into a high ponytail to show off her elvish ears as she smiled down at them with a warm, white, sharp-toothed smile and yellow, glowing eyes that complimented her dark skin.

"May I get your drinks?"

"Sure thing," Rick cleared his throat and held up two fingers. "Two beephlams, please."

"Of course," she said, smiling at them as she bounced away, and Morty didn't realize he was staring until Rick slapped him with the menu.

"Don't get a case of weinerbrain on me, kid," was all he said as he pulled out his flask and took a sip.

"I-I'm not going to get weinerbrain," Morty hissed, staring at the menu again as his face flushed red, and he adjusted the hem of his shirt slightly as he skimmed the options before putting it down and sighing. "I'm p-probably only going to get a BLT."

"Suit yourself," Rick shrugged, glaring slightly at the doors as he did so, but when Morty turned around, he saw nothing out of order and decided not to worry about it.

"Two beephlams," the woman said as she sat down two cup-like flowers, dripping from the liquid that was nearly overflowing the tops, wiping her palms on her apron before pulling out a notepad and smiling at them again. "Know what you want?"

"I'll take three planfakes and the kid'll like a BLT."

"Oh, boring~," she sang as she wrote down their order, grinning directly at Morty, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end as he made eye contact. "I'll be back soon." With a wink, she spun on her heel and sashayed away, and Morty moved to hide his awestruck face in his menu just for Rick to take it away and slide it, as well as his, under the table where an apparent sleeve for menus was hiding. Upon noticing his expression, Rick snorted as he picked up his flower and made a toast motion, and though Morty hesitated to look at what was in his, Rick put the petals to his lips and sucked the drink down with ease.

The liquid's color was like an off orange color, swirling with shades of yellow and red with flecks of gold. It was mystical, and smelt sickeningly sweet, almost like honey. With a raised eyebrow and skeptical look, Morty picked up the flower and took a small sip just to nearly sputter when the flavor hit his mouth because, yeah, it was sweet. The reaction caused Rick to laugh, and Morty put the flower down with a gag.

"It's an acquired taste," Rick said, still grinning when their waitress returned with two plates, handing what looked like pale blue, translucent jelly discs to Rick and the sandwich to Morty.

"Here you are. Now, Rick, are you going to continue to be rude or are you going to introduce me to your grandson?"

Morty, who was trying to take another sip of the ~~honey~~  beephlam, nearly choked not only at her sudden lack of formality, but the fact that she knew Morty was his grandson. Rick let out a grunt and waved his hand, smirking up at her while he teased, "Maybe I wanna be a jerk."

"Like that's nothing new," she giggled and turned to Morty, offering a small hand his way with a smile. "Hi, I'm Latrica, but most people call me Trish."

"I'm M-Morty," the teen said as he took her hand in his and shook while he tried not to choke on his tongue, and she grinned again as she drew back and put a hand on her hip.

"It's nice to meet you, Morty," she cooed before she turned and glared playfully at Rick. "Nice seeing you again, _Rick_."

The older man only grunted in response as he cut into the planfakes and shoved one quickly in his mouth. Trish sighed with an eye roll, motioning to him with a 'this guy' gesture, and Morty grinned at her as she looked at Rick's flower and shook her head before walking away.

"S-She seems nice," Morty mused, and Rick made a noise as he pulled away from his 'fakes and rolled his shoulders out. "How does she kn-know you? Did you guys have a thing?"

"I taught her English," Rick admit with surprising ease, and Morty felt his eyebrows raise again as he picked up his BLT and bit into it, not really expecting it when Rick continued: "And we didn't have a thing; she's only barely 23. I met her when she was 12."

"And s-she learned a whole new language at that age?!" Morty nearly choked on the bread in his mouth, holding a hand to his lips as he stared in awe at his grandpa, and at Trish, as she set down another beephlam for Rick, who muttered thanks as he took a sip from it. She hummed and continued on her way, and once she was out of earshot, Morty looked at Rick for an explanation.

"We had some time to spare," was all he said, shrugging, poking at his 'fakes with his fork, looking up to meet Morty's gaze as he admit: "I was stranded on her planet for roughly six years. She knows more than English, too: Spanish, Italian, and some other alien languages."

"O-Oh, wow."

"Yep. And you can barely pass math."

"T-T-That's not my fault!" Morty cried as he nearly slammed his fist on the table, but that was just the reaction Rick wanted; that much was obvious by the smirk on his face as he cut off another part of the planfakes, and they continued to eat in silence.

 

* * *

 

"O-Oh, jeez."

Morty stared at his phone as it buzzed with another message from Jessica. She'd been texting him the entire day, but he had to put his phone on silent before they'd left so Rick didn't bite his head off, resulting in an ungodly amount of messages from Jessica (granted some were from Summer but the majority was Jessica). "I-I didn't even know I could get service here."

"T-There's a ro-OUTer in the dashboard," Rick said as he jerked the wheel to the right suddenly, nearly toppling Morty over as Rick let out another burp, lifting up a can of the alcohol he had stashed in the backseat as he said, "mainly for if y-your dumbass family needs me when I'm out d-doing shit."

"Oh," Morty hummed, unlocking his phone to read all she'd sent.

 **Jessica:** _I didn't get to break up with Brad, btw; he apologized (*gasp*) before I could. He's been looking for you the whole day. Idk what that's about. Do you?_  
**Jessica:** _I'm bored._  
**Jessica:** _Surprise, surprise, we had no homework, so don't worry about it._  
**Jessica:** _I got an A, btw! Tysm <3_

There was more, but Morty really didn't feel like reading all of them as he bit his lip and muttered: "J-J-Jeez, I didn't expect her to be this.... p-persistent."

"She wants you, Morty; reallll bad. Look"--Rick suddenly pointed at the screen where a word so butchered Morty couldn't even read what it said sat--"she's drawing her letters out. She wan-- sh-she wants the 'D'."

Morty flushed at the idea and pulled his phone away from Rick's finger, feeling his ears and neck grow almost as hot as his face as he stuttered, "O-Oh, no, I--"

"Gotta give it to her, M-Morty. Show her your big-ol' horse dong."

"I-I don't have a horse dong!"

"Then yo-URR screwed, Morty," Rick burped, pouring the rest of the beverage into his mouth before he burped, "and in no good way."

"O-Oh, jeez." The thoughts that'd blossomed were making him lightheaded, and he rubbed his temple as he skimmed more of the messages before finally settling on a reply.

 **Morty:** _Hey, sorry, I spent the whole day with my grandpa haha sorry your day was boring though :p_

The trip home was shorter than the trip up, and as they landed in the garage, the sun was beginning to descend behind the mountains, and Morty decided then that he was going to ask Rick that night about the constellations.

There were still a few more hours to go until the stars even began to come out, so Morty decided to take a quick shower and change into his pyjamas and find something to do that didn't involve bugging Rick (since he'd be doing that soon in a few hours anyway), eventually settling on perusing the web on his laptop and texting Jessica. They weren't really talking about much, just how she was going out to hang out with Brad and some of his friends, and how some of her friends were tagging along, and when she'd invited him to come, he kindly declined and said he had plans. Which he did! He was going to finally talk about the constellations and probably get belittled because were some of them even actual constellations? Probably not, but Morty had found them and wanted to at least try.

Jerry had popped into his room a few times with simple 'How's it going, champ?'s, resulting in Summer or Beth (or Morty, if nobody else did it before him) often yelling out, "Jerry, find a job!" which resulted in him shouting, "I'm trying, okay? It's hard!" as he shut Morty's door. At times Morty wondered if there were other dimensions where Beth had divorced him already, but always managed to shake the thought away, especially when Jerry came in again randomly and offered him a sundae. How he managed to pull a sundae out of thin air confused Morty, but he accepted the chocolate-doused treat nevertheless and decided that, for the time being, Jerry was alright enough. Ever since Rick came back, they hadn't been fighting as much, almost as if Beth had threatened Jerry with divorce if he drove her father away again. Or maybe it was the fact that Jerry was somehow making bank and was able to pull sundaes out of the air. Whatever it was, Morty was happy so long as his family was happy, and it appeared that they were just that: happy. Well, happy enough, anyway. Nobody's truly 'happy' in reality, but that's just something you learn to accept over time. Ironic, because time's an illusion.

Morty's brain seemed to realize this for the nth time as soon as he looked at the time and saw it was around 8, and blinked to realize it was nearly midnight. With a jolt, he shoved his laptop to the side and scrambled off the bed, grabbing his notebook as he made his way downstairs, towards the garage, knocking out of habit before pushing the door open and getting greeted with a (le gasp) sleeping Rick. It was almost surreal, how peaceful and serene he looked, head in his arms on the desk as he rested. Morty almost didn't have the heart to disturb him, until he saw Rick's leg jerk, shoulders hitch, and head turn as he grunted softly. With a raised eyebrow, Morty snuck forward, eyes never leaving his grandpa's body as he continued to twitch slightly, and he walked until he could see his face, and what he saw confused (and concerned) him.

Rick honestly looked uncomfortable, in ever sense of the word. His brow was furrowed, jaw set to the point where he was beginning to grind his teeth, and he turned his head as he twitched again, restless, but in a deep sleep. Seeing the older man in such a state was so odd for Morty, who rarely ever saw him anything other than composed, but he didn't want to wake him up in fear of getting his face blasted off, so Morty did the next best thing he could think of: he pulled the chair away from where it rested in the corner of the room and set it next to Rick's, sitting in it whilst he rubbed small circles on Rick's back, muttering soft words ("It's okay, you're okay...", "It's just a dream", "You're going to be okay, Rick") so he didn't rouse him, but hoped that it would be enough to soothe him. After a few moments of this, Rick slowly settled down (breathing returning to a steady flow, face relaxing a tad bit more, etc.), and Morty was just beginning to pull back when a blur of white smacked his arm away for him with such power that it knocked Morty to the ground, and he barely had any time to look up when a familiar laser gun was thrust in his face, cocked and ready to fire. Morty looked past the barrel, fear and hurt and confusion written all over his face as he made eye contact with his tired, paranoid, terrified grandfather.

"R-R-R-Rick...?" Morty whimpered out, almost pathetically with how small he sounded, but this one word- this one name as all it took for Rick's eyes to come back into focus, and for him to pull the gun away before turning harshly away and sitting back down in his chair, not even dropping the gun as he buried his face in his hands and sighed deeply.

"I'm fine," was all he snapped before he tossed the gun on the desk and continued working on whatever it was he was doing before he fell asleep, and Morty decided to ask about the stars later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~for those who don't know: 'holus-bolus' is another word for 'altogether' and it's my absolute fav _orite word ever omigod_~~


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What the fuck even happened to this story i am so sorry

Rick's reaction in the garage was in Morty's head all night. Sure, he had the time to ask after Rick walked in, but he was too busy chucking his notebook across the room and looking up at his grandfather expectantly to do so. The only response he had gotten was an odd look before Rick rolled his eyes and crawled into the bed, nearly instantly falling asleep with his back turned, but Morty was so used to it that the only thing he really thought was the fact that Rick had been sleeping a lot more. Before the G-Fed takeover, Morty never really knew Rick to sleep that much, unless he had passed out drunk or from absolute exhaustion, and yet here he was, bursting into Morty's room only to collapse on the bed (or floor) and knock out instantly. Rick was a genius, so maybe he realized he actually needs more sleep in order for his brain to be at full optimal power.

...Or something.

Either way, Morty was happy that Rick seemed way happier- maybe more content, if anything- since he came back, and whether that was because he got more sleep, or he was just around his family again, really didn't matter, so long as the elder was happy. In honesty, Morty had his doubts, and the incident in the garage really wasn't helping, especially since Morty really didn't think Rick slept enough to have nightmares, of all things, and in the instance he did, not be... perturbed by them. But then, there were a lot of things Morty didn't understand about the older scientist.

Still, Morty didn't let these thoughts bother him, and though he had his grandfather wrapped around his waist, sleep was still as much of a struggle as it used to be, except this time Morty didn't have the stars to keep him company.

When Morty next went to school, he was anxious. He had no clue what Jessica, or Brad, would say, or do, to him, and that made it hard for him to get out of bed. He did, however, because as much as he was scared, he was curious. He was going to get himself hurt at this rate.

Morty had his back turned, looking into his locker to grab his notebook when he heard it: Brad yelled out his name, and when Morty turned, he saw Brad approaching at a rapid pace.

Morty's first instinct was to pull back, hitting his back on the lockers as Brad stepped closer, letting out a soft yelp as Brad leaned own to Morty's eye level, scowling, and when Brad raised his hand, Morty nearly flinched so hard he collapsed, but, to his surprise, Brad simply clapped him on the shoulder, smiling at the brunet.

"Hey, man, sorry for being such a douche to you all the time," were the words to leave the teenager, and left Morty absolutely speechless and Jessica wrapped her arms around Brad's shoulder, smiling at him like he put the stars in the sky.

"See, Morty?" she giggled as Brad grabbed her by the waist, hugging her closer. "Brad's a changed man."

But before anything else could happen, the bell rang, and Morty ducked past them to the auditorium, holding back tears from fear, confusion, and a little bit of hurt. He really was an idiot if he thought Jessica might actually want something with somebody like him.

Morty was hesitant to sit where he did before, mainly in case Jessica wanted to sit there with Brad, but then he argued that Jessica wouldn't go to the auditorium, but rather the gym, where Brad and the rest of his friends were, and that was if the two even decided to stay at the school. There was no real reason to, being as Jessica's friends made it clear that they didn't want to come until they were forced to, and so Morty really had no reason to be so upset when Jessica didn't come in. The 16-year-old was in the same spot, a row below Morty, one seat to the right, and though he was a bit hesitant to sit next to a stranger, he decided she had wordlessly invited him to when she sat a seat to the right, and steeled his nerves as he vaulted over and landed with a grunt in the seat.

At first, she didn't say anything, keeping her eyes on her phone as she typed in what appeared to be a group chat. The most recent text was from Jessica, telling her to keep Morty 'company', whatever that meant, and Morty tore his eyes away from her phone to doodle idly on his notebook. Grabbing one was more habitual than necessary, but it wasn't something he could help when he trained himself to make sure he was prepared for class, regardless of what happened. His wrist movements caused her to look up, and she peeked over at what he was drawing before returning her gaze to her phone, locking it, and sliding it in her pocket.

"Morty, right?"

To say Morty jumped would be an understatement, and though his reaction made her laugh, he didn't feel as flustered as he usually would, and started chuckling slightly himself. "Uh, y-yeah. Hi. Uh--"

"You should be careful about Jessica."

Morty felt his lips fall into a small 'w' shape. "U-Uh?"

"She may seem to have pure intentions, but, if anything, she'll just use you to make Brad jealous. You're a good kid, Morty, but Jessica's into jocks and you're, well... cute."

Morty flushed, still floundering for words. He didn't even know this girl's name, and yet she was acting like she knew Morty like the back of her hand.

W-Wait, 'cute'?

"It's just a warning," she shrugged, and pulled out her phone again so Morty didn't try and talk to her again, which only made Morty feel more awkward than anything, but the feeling went away as soon as she swiped a notification off the screen and put her phone back in her pocket. Before either of them could say anything, a familiar green glow settled on the floor, and Morty felt his feet sink into the floor. He yelped- not super loud, but loud enough to cause a few people to jump-, grabbing the arm of his chair and bringing himself up slightly as the other girl pulled her feet up and stared, open-mouthed, at the portal. As Morty pulled his feet from the portal, a familiar hand reached out from the swirl and attached to Morty's ankle, yanking him down before Morty could even make a noise. The portal closed with a wet slurp as Morty snapped from his ankle like a bungee-cord, dangling upside-down in the air, and the back of his hands smacked into the concrete floor of the garage as Rick held onto him, standing on a stool, wrist turned so he didn't break Morty's ankle. They blinked at each other for a second before Rick let him go, and Morty groaned as his spine bent uncomfortably as his head hit the floor before gravity sent the rest of his body following.

"W-What the heck, Rick?" Morty all but sighed as he picked himself off the floor, bending one leg beneath him to push himself up. Rick grunted as he stepped down, falling back into his chair and turning to face the worktable.

"Hand me those pliers."

Morty felt his jaw go slack. "You pulled me o-out of school because you're too lazy to get up and get a pair of pliers?!"

"Yes, _Morty_! It's n-not like y-OUHHR missing anything important anyway."

Though Morty was honestly a little bit glad that Rick had pulled him from that hellhole, even if it was just for a pair of pliers, he still couldn't shake the feeling that Rick was hiding something, and he worried his lip between his teeth as he began towards the shelf with most of Rick's tools when a sharp pain bloomed through his skull. He stopped, swaying on his feet as he hissed, holding a hand to his head as the room began to spin, and he didn't even realize he hit the floor again until he saw the outline of Rick leaning over him, eyes wide and panicky. Morty's ears were ringing so loud that he almost missed what Rick was saying, but his grandpa had said the word enough times that Morty recognized it. Before Morty blacked out, Rick was screaming his name.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Morty recognized when he woke up was the beeping of the heart rate monitor. The next was the strong smell of alcohol and what was probably the alien equivalent to Old Spice. Then he recognized Summer, sitting on a chair that matched the one Morty had for his computer in his room, typing on her phone, and then he noticed beige, and an insane amount of clutter, and that's when he realized he was lying in Rick's room, on the cot that Jerry had pulled from the camping supplies and nobody bothered to replace with something better. His confusion must've been so obvious that Summer could see it without looking up, because though she kept her eyes on her phone, she opened her mouth to speak.

"Rick bailed after he dumped you in here and hooked you to all this medical stuff," she began, thumb scrolling the page of whatever app she was using up further as she continued to appear disinterested. "What even happened?"

Morty groaned as he let his head fall back on the single, low pillow, instantly thinking ' _Sheesh, it's no wonder Rick constantly passes out in my room. This is uncomfortable as hell._ ' and instantly regretting it. Of course he would say that, since he had a better bed, with three fluffy pillows and fluffy bedding. Just how unknowingly spoiled was he? He cleared the thoughts and sighed, closing his eyes. "R-Rick pulled me from school again, and when we made it to the garage, I p-passed out. That's a-all I remember."

Summer hummed, as if she was only half listening, until Morty sat up a bit and blinked up at her, taking a second so he didn't vomit into the waiting can. "W-Wait, why are you in here?"

"Mom and Dad are fighting again."

The statement sent a cold rush through Morty's veins, and he turned his head towards the door, frowning sadly as he, indeed, began to hear the harsh, loud words that he used to be able to block out from his parents arguing in the kitchen just barely over the medical equipment's insistent noises. So much for the consistent peace Morty nearly prayed would stay, and he muttered out a soft "Oh" in response. Summer again hummed, still typing on her phone, and Morty moved to lie back down, head beginning to swim, and he feared that he'd end up losing what little stomach contents he had. Maybe he'd be able to go to sleep and sleep himself into a dimension where Beth and Jerry were happy.

Summer looked up when Morty snorted to himself at his stupidity, but didn't question. Beth and Jerry being in a failing marriage was most likely as consistent as Rick being a genius and Morty being 'slow', so hoping for anything different would be useless, but that really didn't stop Morty from doing just that: hoping; not even for his and Summer's happiness, which would most likely be the result of happy parents, but hoping for the happiness of his entirely family. It seemed like everybody in his family had at least some level of depression, with Rick being on top and Jerry being, as usual, on the bottom in the mental-illness-and-other-assorted-problems sandwich that made up the Smith-Sanchez home. Morty would probably shove himself second, but paired with abandonment and daddy issues on top of stress and most likely depression, Beth secured that. Morty came a close third, with neglect, loneliness, anxiety, mental and physical abuse, and depression, and Summer came fourth with minor depression and, if anything else, neglect, loneliness, and stress. Not like it was a competition.

Morty was so busy staring at the ceiling, covered with papers that Rick couldn't fit on his wall, and listening to the steady pulse of the heartbeat monitor that he almost didn't hear Rick's door open. Summer moving was what alerted him to the new presence, and Morty sat up slightly as Rick shut the door behind him, a look of annoyance on his face.

"They still arguing?" Summer asked softly, and Rick scoffed, releasing his hold on the knob to move further into the room, towards the worktables farther in.

"Obviously, Summer. The only thing they know how to do is a-a-argue."

Summer grumbled something under her breath and stood. "You're welcome for keeping an eye on your guinea pig."

Rick lifted his hand and flipped her off, though neither were looking at each other, and Summer shut the door as loud as she could without disturbing Beth or Jerry, though it would've been what they deserved if she did, leaving Rick and Morty alone in the small room. Neither said a thing as Rick rifled through the bag he had placed on the table until he turned, holding a small fruit-like object, and Morty frowned as he looked at it.

"W-What is that?" he asked, though even before Morty asked, Rick had his mouth open, ready to explain.

"It's a Kindling Fruit, Morty. You know what this does?"

Morty shook his head slightly, and Rick waved it in the air, brow furrowed while his other hand was digging in his bag. "It gives you seizures, Morty; it turns you into a vegetable."

"A v-vegetable?"

"Not literally," Rick set the fruit down and pulled out another one, waving it around, and from where Morty was sitting, he could smell what appeared to be rotten cheese. "A medical vegetable. It'll make you b-basically brain-dead, Morty."

"O-Oh jeez."  
  
"But this," Rick held the other fruit towards him, stepping forward, and Morty recoiled away from the smell as Rick waved it closer to him, forcing it under his nose, "this is a Foster Fruit. Know what _this_  does?"

"U-uh..."

"It heals you. I-It's juice is like a- like a- like a serum. It should h-heal you right up." He grabbed Morty's hand, placing it in his palm and making him hold it. "I-It packs a punch, though, s-so you're probably going to pass out three minutes after ingesting it."

"Oh, man, R-Rick. It smells r-r-really bad," Morty frowned at the fruit and held it away from him.

"That means it's good, Morty. Now eat it before I make you eat it."

Morty took in a deep breath, hoping to hold his breath so he didn't inhale too much of the scent as he bit into the fruit, furrowing his brow, and he tried to drink as much of the juice as he could as some escaped down his wrist and chin, and he instantly gagged and pulled away, swallowing it just to cough and nearly vomit immediately. If he thought the smell was bad, the juice was pure Hell. The fruit itself smelt like rotten cheese, but the juice (oh the fucking _juice_ ) taste like rotten milk, though with the texture of apple or orange juice. His brain was confused, trying to assess all the new information, though he barely had time to process it all as his body got heavy and the fruit fell from his tingling fingers.

"T-There it is," Rick snickered above him as Morty fell back to the bed as his body shut down while he was still awake. "G-Good job, buddy; thought you'd vomit for sure." Morty barely registered Rick's hand in his hair, and his eyes fluttered closed with a haze crossing in front of his mind, like he was underwater, drowning, though his lungs never filled with water. "Sleep tight; we've got a big day tomorrow."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly?? This is kind of becoming one of those things that you can just replace the names and it'll have the same effect.
> 
> I'm still going to write it tho. I've gotten attached 
> 
> Funnily enough, I'm in the middle of watching Rick and Morty all the way through for the third time and yet I feel like the characters are more OOC as a result.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter; it's g a y™

Turns out the 'big day' was just going to another planet and harvesting what Rick called 'ballsacks with rainbow semen'. It was kind of funny how much Rick hyped it, making Morty change into some shorts and hiking boots almost immediately after Morty woke up (which was around four in the morning) before barging into the room while Morty was in the middle of putting on his shoes to ramble on about their loot, sat on the floor in front of Morty's feet to tie the black boots for him. There had been only a few other times that Morty had ever seen Rick so excited, so he felt a little disappointed and betrayed that it ended up being so lame. Rick explained with mirth, over their breakfast at Plintargn's, that the ship couldn't be flown there or else they'd get fined, and claimed the sights to be incredible, so the exercise was made up for, and though Morty was doubtful, he wasn't going to argue with Rick and sit in the ship for who knows how long.

The next question Morty asked was about a portal, and Rick explained that the purpose of the hike was so that people got so worn out, they didn't make a shit-ton of noise, or else the ballsacks would literally explode.

"I've tried it a few times," Rick said as he folded up his lab coat, sliding his flask into the pocket of his pants, handing a few more small devices to Morty to put in his pockets and motioning for him to follow as Rick set off down the trail. While Morty wore his signature yellow shirt (he traded his blue pants for khaki shorts and white Vans for black hiking boots), Rick chose to wear his normal pants, shoes, and belt, but decided last minute to ditch his lab coat and blue sweater, leaving him in a gray, stained wife-beater, though the planet usually reached a maximum heat of 32C ("That's 99F, Morty, which is a little less than a normal summer day. You're n-not going to suffocate, but we're not going to bring water, so I'm n-not taking chances."), so it's not like either of them would die no matter what they wore. "Let's just say, i-it wasn't pretty. Rainbow goop everywhere, like a d-domino affect. One tree after the other, explosion after explosion. Sure, s-some people were smart enough to harvest what they could, but most people were angry. N-Not my fault; all I heard was that there were rainbow testicles. I'm a man of science, Mo-OURGH-ty; I had to check it out."

"W-What are they even for?" Morty asked as he stumbled over a rock, Rick reaching back almost instantly to catch his stumbling grandson as they moved forward. "Decoration? Medicine? Pleasure?"

"For one, Morty, I'm not using a gay ballsack to pleasure myself, and for two, it's for nothing that your unimaginative brain could imagine. Nononono, the goop from these has enough power to keep a small planet's electricity running for three thousand years. M-Most people use this to power their homes when on the run and need to set up shop o-on another planet. I've missed three Ricksgiving's in my microverse battery because I'm worried that asshole Zeep is going to try and break out when I come in, so now I'm going to teach them a lesson and use an alien p-planet's cum to power my car for a bit."

"I-It's barely even been a year, Rick," Morty frowned, despite being used to all the vulgar analogies and terminology by now, as he continued forward alongside his grandfather and tried not to get distracted by the abundance of flora in the forest-like trail they were walking. His skin crawled as he caught a whiff of rotten cheese. "How h-h-have you missed _three_  Ricksgivings?"

"Time passes differently there," Rick explained, looking at him with a frown and a look in his eye that made Morty feel absolutely stupid. "I thought I told you that."

Morty frowned, remembering that while they were in the Tinyverse for a few months, it had been at least a few hours with Summer- well, it had been long enough for Rick's ship to create a peace treaty between spiders and the government in one night. "O-Oh yeah."

"Christ, Morty, d-do you ever listen to me?" Rick rolled his eyes, swinging his arms so Morty could hear the soft ticking of three separate wristwatches on his arm blending in with the sounds of twigs crunching and animals calling in the underbrush, and the teen felt his frown deepen at the accusation.

"O-O-Of course I do, Rick; I just f-forgot."

"Y-Yeah, uh-huh. Unsurprising."

"You know what, Rick?" Morty snapped, throwing his arms downward in exasperation as he glared up at his indifferent grandfather who actually managed to look a little surprised at the outburst. "You d-don't have to be so mean all the time! I-I-I get that you have a-- an 'image' to uphold, b-bu-but it's just us here, y'know?" Morty swung his arms around the open space, hunching his shoulders as he furrowed his brows. "You d-don't need to be s-such a- such an ass!"

"Correction, Mo-OURGH-ty," Rick burped, leaning down so his face was in Morty's- so far down that Morty had to lean back a bit, and even still their noses were almost touching. "I don't care about my i-image. I'm an ass because I want to be an ass. Maybe t-the world doesn't revolve around y-you and your fragile e-emotions, Morty. S-Sound familiar?"

Crossing his arms across his chest, Morty clenched his jaw and glared into the dense forest around them, and though his head was beginning to pulse with an incoming migraine, he said nothing more, albeit a little hesitantly. If his head was hurting, didn't that mean that the Foster fruit from the previous night didn't work?

Didn't that mean that Morty would have to eat another?

 _Yeah, no thanks._  He'd rather risk dying from a possible brain tumor than revealing that his head still hurt to Rick.

His grandfather stared at him for a hard minute before asking "How's your head" in a monotone voice, and Morty panicked despite the fact that he should've known Rick would know something was up and blurted that it was kind of beginning to hurt. In an instant, Rick's hands were on his shoulders, forcing him to a stop beside a large tree, the action making Morty look to his face in alarm just to be greeted with an irritated look and a furrowed brow.

"How long has it been hurting?"

Morty shifted, trying to subtly pull himself free from Rick's iron grip as he averted his gaze. "I-I don't know; a c-couple of minutes?" The sigh Rick gave- slightly annoyed and angry- made Morty wish he hadn't said anything, and Rick pulled one hand free to grab into Morty's pocket, which, of course, sent Morty jolting backward with a stuttering yelp, earning a very confused look from Rick.

"Look, Morty, it's not like I-- I'm n-not gonna _do_  anything." Morty flushed at the accusation. "I j-just need the po-OURGH-tal egg." Rick crossed his arms (which, without the lab coat or sweater, showed Morty just how much muscle the older man had ~~wait hold on where was this coming from?~~ ) and arched his brow, waiting to see if Morty would get his shit together or get the egg himself.

"W-Wait, egg?" Rick rolled his eyes, uncrossing his arms as Morty dug into his shorts' pockets and pulled out a literal metal egg, with familiar green swirling on the inside. There was a small hole in the opening, probably where the portal itself got deposited out, and some buttons to input coordinates, as well as a pale orange 'go' button, which Rick almost smashed as he swiped the egg from Morty's hands. "W-W-What the heck is that?"

"Don't you l-IGHS-ten, Morty?" Rick huffed, thumbing in some coordinates before pointing the egg away from the both of them. "It's a portal egg. I made it s-so I could sneak it around, or as a last r-resort if the gun broke."

Watching the portal come from the egg was kind of amusing- it looked like a spider spewing a web, a small bubble of green liquid flying out of the egg's hole and splattering against the open air like a paintball, and Morty would have laughed if Rick didn't immediately shove him to the ground and dive into the portal. Before Morty could even stand, the portal lost its form and fell to the ground like Nickelodeon slime, leaving the teen stranded on an alien planet, surrounded by alien trees and animals, with a high possibility of sudden death.

No, he wasn't panicking.

 

* * *

 

Morty had gone back and forth in his mind for what seemed like an hour, contemplating storming back to the ship or continuing forward, in case this was Rick's sick joke to portal closer to their destination and make Morty sprint after him, but no matter how many times he told himself to get up and start walking, he never did, rather staying seating on a rock as he waited for Rick to return. A few creatures walked by, muttering things in their own tongue, and some even addressed him personally before he sputtered that he didn't understand them and they continued on their way, albeit a little hesitant to let this random alien kid sit all by himself, with nobody who even remotely looked like his species near. One even spoke English, asking if he was alright and if he needed anything, or if he wanted to go with them, but the cool day and overhang of trees made him tell them that he was okay, and they continued. The steady pulse of a growing migraine only made thinking worse, but he didn't move from the rock. If Rick came back, he didn't want to send the older man into a panic when he didn't see Morty where he left him, but Morty almost thought that'd be worth it. Almost.

He was just about to grab a branch to start whacking a nearby bush out of boredom when the sound of paint splattering made him look up, and Rick, now less sweaty than before, stepped out, holding a black backpack over one shoulder and holding a water bottle in the other. Morty's shoes barely even had time to hit the forest floor when the bottle went soaring to his face, and he instinctively flinched away with a yelp as he miraculously caught it, but he didn't miss the odd look on Rick's face when he looked up, as if he were confused, or deep in thought.

"S-S-Something up?" Morty inquired as he rubbed the palm of his hand on his shorts, trying to get the numbing feeling away from the plastic cap grinding uncomfortably against his skin. Rick's eyes flicked from the ground to Morty before he rolled them and waved for him to follow, walking around the portal right before it fell into the pile of goop, Morty scrambling to follow after him while simultaneously trying to take a sip, nearly gagging when he inhaled the air and was assaulted by rotten cheese again. "Ugh, R-Rick, did you get th-those fruits here?"

On cue, Rick took in a deep breath, so deep that _Morty's_  eyes started to water, and he let out a loud, sarcastic sigh, big smile plastered on his face. "Yee-up!" he popped, stretching his arms out and nearly whacking Morty's bottle, causing him to jolt and narrowly miss spilling on himself. "D-Doesn't it smell amazing, Morty? The smell of _useless fruit_."

Morty winced when he suddenly reeled around and nearly drove his fist right through a tree, sending a couple of Foster fruit to the ground, but Morty didn't even have time to ask, because then he stood up straight and continued on, adjusting the bag slightly. Amongst the tumble, Morty noticed two of the ones that fell to be Kindling, making him frown. Why did Rick have it, anyway? Was he planning on using it on Morty- maybe spike his food or something and send him into some sort of coma-like state, for his own advantage?

Morty registered pain before he realized that his hands were clenched and carving crescents into his palms, and he forced himself to relax, telling himself that Rick wouldn't do that, because then that would render Morty entirely useless. If he was brain-dead, didn't that mean he didn't have any brainwaves to give?

"H-Hey, Rick?" Morty began, trying to keep his voice even and without spite. When Rick didn't respond, Morty kept going. "Why did-- Why do you have a K-Kindling fruit?"

"To study it," Rick admit so easily that Morty was taken aback, and he couldn't help feeling that Rick was waiting for the question. "I want to see what's i-in it's juice that causes people to have seizures and shit."

A small voice in Morty's head told him that there was more to the subject, but he didn't ask, because what he was studying it for was clear enough. The way he said it made Morty think he was trying to make a serum that actually worked.

"S-So, nothing else w-worked?"

Rick stayed silent, and Morty began to think that he stepped on something he wasn't meant to, and he prepared himself of Rick's oncoming explosion on how he's never wrong and that Morty's nothing more than his guinea pig and even though he probably has a concussion, that won't stop Rick from experimenting and torturing his grandson.

However, none of that came as Rick shrugged and simply stated, "Nope. So now we have to go to Plan B."

"P-Plan 'B'?" Morty whimpered, and in the blink of an eye, Rick turned to him and jabbed him with a needle, and Morty screamed, tearing himself backward right as the needle exited his body.

There was a straight minute where nothing happened, but the moment Morty realized that something _was_  about to happen, due to the sideways look that Rick was giving him, his stomach rolled, and he nearly doubled over with how fast bile rose in his throat, and he barely had time to turn and lean on the fence as he vomited up everything he had to eat in probably the last week.

He felt like he was losing his soul.

It went on for what seemed like an eternity, Morty's knees and elbows weak by the time the steady stream of digested food was resulted to strands of pale green-colored spittle, sticking to his teeth, tongue, lips, and the roof of his mouth, nearly making him begin vomiting again by just the texture and taste of stomach acid, and he rested his head on the fence as he groaned, Rick's hand rubbing circles on the small of his back as his vision faded in and out, mind swimming.

"You're a good kid, Morty," he murmured, and the world went dark.

 

* * *

 

Morty came to in a quiet, dark, empty garage. His head felt better than it had since his tussle with Brad, and his stomach growled with the need to replace what he had just vomited a few hours prior. There wasn't even a mark on his arm where Rick had injected the serum. Rick had apparently slid him into the backseat for more comfortable resting, a soft throw blanket that smelt faintly like vanilla tucked around his body, the warmth of the fleece making it near impossible to get up, but he did, enjoying the way the pelt rubbed against his skin. He recognized it was one of Rick's favorite blankets, made of Yarque (basically like sheep in space) fur, which was not only rare but extremely expensive, thanks to the quality of it's pelt. When he got out of the ship, he folded it up and tucked it under his arm, shutting the ship's door softly but firm enough to make sure it closed, he moved to put the blanket on Rick's work chair, but as he leaned down to make sure the fold was perfect, he heard the familiar sound of his parents arguing. At first he shrugged it off, finding it far too normal to pay it much mind, but that was when the voices got louder, and his blood went cold when he realized that not only was Rick in on the argument, voice loud and controlling, but they were arguing about  _him._

Morty contemplated just walking out of the garage and heading up to his room, knowing that, if they even noticed, the most they would do would be lowering their voice, but Rick would continue to be loud and repeat literally everything Beth and Jerry said loud enough to make sure Morty heard it. However, instead of doing that, Morty crouched on the stairs, pressing his ear to the door separating him and his screaming family.

"Dad knows what he's doing!" Beth shouted, voice wavering and making Morty's ears pulse, and he heard Jerry snort.

"Oh, does he? Our son probably has a blood clot in his brain and you still don't think he's in danger?!"

"He didn't even have a concussion," Rick snarled, and Jerry let out a sarcastic, jeering laugh as Beth sputtered between them. "Morty's fine."

"Oh, sure, 'fine', if that's what you want to call it. I told you we should have taken him to a doctor, but no, your father disabled any such treatment!" The teen heard Jerry grunt as Rick probably slammed him against the counter.

"And I told _you_  that I'm a _scientist_  and I know what I'm doing!" Rick barked in response, and Morty nearly fell over from the force, despite being a room away. "Is that t-to hard for your small little incompetent brain to understand?!"

"No," Jerry retorted, and Morty heard the sound of Rick's shoes moving back as Jerry probably shoved him away, and probably straightened out his shirt, "I just don't want our son getting killed by your _daddy issues!_ " Beth and Morty both gasped, and then there was silence, such heavy silence that he almost thought that Rick literally killed Jerry. He almost wanted to move away from the door, climb back into the ship and pretend he just woke up and didn't hear all that, but then there was a sniffle, and then a firm, albeit a little watery with what was probably tears, command. "Jerry, go get your things."

Another beat. "W-What?"

"Go. Get. Your. Things, Jerry," Beth once again snarled, and a cabinet slammed.

Of course, that was when Morty decided to push the garage door open and step into the kitchen.

Beth had her back turned, but she looked over her shoulder at her son, cheeks tearstained and eyes puffy, a little bit of red wine on the corner of her mouth, and her eyes widened a bit more when she noticed who was standing there, looking almost as broken as Jerry. His father was a little disheveled, hair matted to his forehead, probably from fear of actually standing up to Rick, and his jaw was slack from the shock of Beth's sudden command and probable divorce. He was looking at Morty, but his eyes were glazed, like he was looking right through the son they were just arguing about. There wasn't much to say about Rick, though. He had his sweater back on, his lab coat probably in the garage or in the ship, forgotten at the moment, and there was a little bit of splattered alcohol across his chest and collar, leaving Morty to assume that Jerry had whacked it out of his hand mid-drink and sent it spraying across his torso. His jaw was set and brow in a deeper furrow than usual, eyes alight with the fire of a fight, hands clenched at his sides, as though he were ready to deck Jerry in the face. Morty looked between them all, a million questions in his head, but right as he opened his mouth, Rick grabbed him by the wrist and tugged him to the staircase.

"I'll be up in a minute," Rick snarled, anger obvious but, for once, it wasn't directed at him, and all Morty could do was nod numbly and set up the stairs. Summer's room was open, her head peeking out slightly in confusion, and the moment she saw Morty, she hissed to get his attention. Morty turned, eyebrow raised at his sister's antics, and stepped a little closer when she motioned him over. The moment he was in reach, her hand darted out like a snake, tugging him into the room, and the moment he crossed the threshold, she shut the door, turning to watch as Morty stumbled in.

"What was all that about?" she instantly asked, and Morty furrowed his brow as he looked away.

"I don't know," he answered honestly, and Summer moved to cross her arms before she noticed his broken expression and sighed. Morty could barely hide his surprise when she wrapped her arms around him slightly.

"We haven't had much time to hang out," she began, pulling away from him and resting her hands on his shoulders, smiling sadly down at him. "What do you say I take you out for some ice cream tomorrow."

Morty didn't even realize he was crying until she wiped a tear from his cheek, and he sniffled, beaming up at her as best he could through tears as his lips quivered. "O-Okay."

 

* * *

 

Morty stuck his finger between his hoodie's cuff and his wrist, dragging it back and forth to give his wrist a little bit of the night air. It wasn't necessarily hot out- wearing the hoodie was comfortable, but the cuff was tight, and he didn't want there to be faint lines where the design had tattooed itself into his flesh. After hearing part of his parent's argument and having a 'moment' with Summer, Morty had tucked himself into his room and spent the rest of the day on his laptop, being as he and Rick got back around 1 PM, without much interaction with Rick. He popped in once, like he was he would, and explained that he needed to do something in the garage, but didn't even wait for Morty to respond before he shut the room back. That was hours ago, and the sun had set, which lead Morty to throw on his hoodie and grabbing his notebook from the corner in which he'd thrown it, and clambering back onto the roof. The crater from Rick's pod was still in the ground, particles of broken sidewalk and asphalt around it, as well as clumps of dirt and grass, and when Morty had asked what happened to it, Rick told him he dismantled it for spare parts and explained that he could use the metal to make a lot more complicated things that needed something stronger than the normal iron, steel, or aluminum he'd usually use.

Morty sighed as he blew some eraser shavings off his page, careful not to smudge the fresh lead from another constellation he'd just drawn, gaze returning to the sky to see if he could find any more from the new positions of the stars when something landed heavily next to him, a gruff sigh falling from their lips as they settled back and suckled on the end of a flask.

"So this is w-what you spend your time doing?" Rick muttered silently, but there was no malice in his tone, and Morty looked at him as his head craned back to peer up at the stars. "It's peaceful out here, isn't it?"

"Y-Yeah," Morty nodded, worrying his lip between his teeth as he looked at his notebook, noticing the way the page quivered and willed himself to stop shaking. Rick glanced down at his notebook, then at the sky.

"Constellations?"

"Yeah."

Another beat.

"Can I see?"

Morty nearly sent himself off the roof with how fast he handed the book to Rick, and watched as he flipped to the beginning, moving farther up the roof to get a better scan of the sky. He said nothing, simply flipping the pages and finding what Morty had drawn out before he got the last page and closed the book, handing it back to his grandson, whose hand was shaking so bad he nearly couldn't grab it back. He sat, waiting for Rick to laugh and tell him that none of those existed, or to just get up and go back inside, when suddenly fingers were in his hair, ruffling the brown locks, and when Morty looked up, he was greeted with a genuine Rick smile.

"You're a good kid, Morty."

 

>END<

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story time: this started out as one chapter. It was supposed to be a small, sad one-shot with Morty reminiscing the past with Rick where interpretation was key. And then, out of nowhere, I realized 'Oshit, I don't know how to end this.' So I made it the end of a chapter and began #2. 
> 
> The multichapter thing it became was only supposed to be 8-10 chapters long, but I had so much fun writing it that I kept saying 'eh, maybe another chapter', and I kept going until, finally, here we are. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for the lovely comments that kept pushing me forward, and I sincerely hope you enjoyed <3
> 
> But don't go anywhere; I have about two one-shots and another full-fledged story in the works, so keeps your eyes peeled ( ~~and watch out for the Eyehole Man~~ ). 
> 
> I love you all! Wubba Lubba Dub Dub!!! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Mistakes? Comments?? Criticisms??? Fun factoids???? Storytime?????? Feel free to comment!


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